Redemption
by HouAreYouToday
Summary: COMPLETED Dr. Laura Watson and Jake Holmes join forces once again, as they go undercover to catch a former mobster. Can Watson save Holmes before he becomes a criminal? Sequel to The Future Past and One of Those Nights.
1. Lestrade's Big Promotion

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AN: The standard disclaimer applies- any resemblance to ACD's characters is his, and not mine… etc.

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Chapter 1

This was the best way to spend a Saturday morning. I was curled up on my living room couch with a book and blanket, laptop on the coffee table, and Charlie Parker's saxophone riffs covering the mundane hum of the air conditioner. I remained like this the entire morning, until I heard a rapid succession of knocks at my door around noon.

"It's open," I called out, refusing to budge from my comfortable position.

"You know Watson, you really need to lock your door. What if it happened to be a criminal of some sort?" My friend Jake Holmes remarked as he let himself in, carefully closing the door behind him before proceeding to turn down the music.

"Then I would have to call you up." I laughed, a bit thrown off by Holmes' immaculate appearance. His usually messy hair was slicked neatly back, and he was sporting a healthy tan, a direct contrast to his usual pale complexion. "How've you been, stranger?" I had not seen nor heard from Holmes since we returned to Los Angeles after the Moriarty incident. We had gone to the opera the night we got back from San Francisco, and he was called away by Lestrade on an undercover sting operation the very next morning. Perhaps his new appearance was a remnant of that investigation.

Holmes collapsed into the nearest armchair, long legs dangling over an armrest. "Nothing but busy work, I'm afraid. Ever since Moriarty has left us, Los Angeles has become a very dull place. So dull that Lestrade's lot have been able to crack all the cases."

"Afraid you'll be out of work?" I teased. He could be so melodramatic sometimes.

He smiled wanly. "Afraid of being bored to death. Nothing interesting has come through the morgue by chance, has it?"

My face scrunched. "Nope, just a ballpoint pen stabbing in the eye last night, which Anderson took. It's been quiet."

Holmes groaned half-heartedly, sinking further into the plush chair. "That's it. I will just have to rot here."

"Suit yourself. I'm going out. You can come with if you like. Or stay here and vegetate." Holmes' drama queen antics were starting to grate on my nerves. I needed a break from the apartment- and him. I grabbed my bag of swim gear from the floor near the door, and proceeded to head out before Holmes stopped me in my tracks.

"No thanks, Watson, swimming at Y is not my cup of tea. And don't look so shocked, it was a very simple deduction," Holmes smirked at the surprise on my face.

"You know, they would have burned you at the stake back in the day."

He sat up, smiling broadly. "It doesn't take much to notice the highlighted YMCA pool schedule posted on your bulletin board. That, combined with your swim goggles hanging out of your bag, and the size of the towel draped over your shoulders, there is no other explanation."

"It's all so simple when you explain it."

Holmes had sank back into the chair, placated. "Of course. Perhaps I should stop explaining it, or else I will become a magician without his secrets. And tell me, Watson, what good is a magician without secrets?"

I rolled my eyes. He was still fishing for compliments. "Holmes, you'll always be magical to me," I reassured in a sickly sweet voice, trying to suppress my snickering as I let myself out, not waiting to hear his reply.

* * *

After swimming laps, I ran some errands, not returning to my apartment until the sun had set. Holmes had not budged from his place in the armchair, even though I was making a deliberate ruckus putting away my groceries for the week.

"Want to grab some dinner?" I asked, trying to rouse him.

He finally opened his eyes. "Only if we can go to Pedro's. My treat."

Little Pedro's Blue Bongo was a little hangout near the city courthouse that cops, attorneys, and federal agents favored. I groaned inwardly, knowing that Holmes had suggested that place not because of the food, or infamous pool tables, but rather, the conversation. (Or perhaps the ability to overhear others' conversation). But anything that would get him off of my armchair and working again would be fine by me. It made me rather uneasy that every time he got into one of his moods, the only thing that could budge him was the promise of an interesting, and usually grotesque crime.

"Sure." I plastered a smile on my face, wishing for a brief moment that I had normal friends, who I could do normal things, like shopping, with.

Then again, given my line of work as a medical examiner, and friendship with one very interesting consulting detective, how could I expect normalcy? I glanced at Holmes, who was already waiting expectantly at the door.

I smiled to myself, before getting up and following him out. And at least, unlike Holmes, I could never say my life was boring.

* * *

Pedro's was bustling when we arrived. It was always pretty crowded, and tonight was no exception. Tonight, however, the atmosphere was extremely festive and celebratory; usually, the place was just full of people complaining about how the law gave suspects way too many rights. I was glad to be out, even if the guy with me was the only one who wasn't celebrating; rather, he was sulking quietly beside me, thumbing through the obituary section of the paper, lamenting under his breath about the horrors of boredom. I ignored his mumbling patiently while we waited for the hostess to seat us, but I was so hungry by the time they had an open table I almost ate the menu.

We had just ordered when a fat, balding, rat-faced man plopped himself down next to me, reeking of alcohol. Good old Lestrade. "So, Dr. Watson," he slurred, "Did Jake tell you how we shut down that bastard Ricardo Ramirez? Drug lords, they really don't know anything about how to deal with us Homicide guys. We cleared four murders and managed the biggest drug bust this decade. Narcotics is royally pissed that we stole their thunder, aren't they Jake?"

I scooted as far away from Lestrade as possible without being blatantly rude. Not that Lestrade was any condition to notice. So this was why the place was rocking tonight. "Congratulations, detective," I smiled politely.

Holmes' eyes twinkled with amusement. "Congratulations, detective," he parroted sarcastically, winking at me.

Lestrade didn't notice. "Come on, celebrate with me." He gestured to the waitress. "A round of whatever's on tap, for me and these two. Put it on my tab."

He then turned to Holmes, his demeanor serious, his usually boisterous voice an octave lower. "Good news, Jake. I'm leaving the LAPD."

Holmes raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "What?"

Lestrade nodded solemnly. "Yeah. The feds called. The Moriarty business, plus this latest drug best…, they came up with a good offer. Plush office, less field work, great benefits, no more LAPD brass bullshit."

Holmes stiffened noticeably. "You're in the big leagues now," he drawled.

Lestrade pounded the table with his fist. "You damn right I am," he announced.

He was about to say something else when the waitress interrupted with three beers.

Lestrade lowered his voice again. "About our arrangement… does it still stand?" The arrangement Lestrade was referring to was the basis of Holmes' relationship with him, where Lestrade would consult Holmes unofficially in his cases, allowing Holmes to participate in difficult investigations. Normally what would happen was that Holmes would solve the case for Lestrade, and Lestrade would take all the credit. And Holmes, it seemed, never minded.

"No," Holmes replied curtly.

Lestrade seemed rather surprised, almost hurt. "Why not?" he probed.

"Because I don't work with the FBI," he spit out. Lestrade and I glanced at each other, both stunned at the vehemence in Holmes' voice.

Holmes noticed our unease, and managed to compose himself. "Lestrade, really. You don't need my help. With your skills, you'll do fine," he said soothingly, reaching over the table to pat Lestrade's shoulder. He raised his glass to Lestrade. "Cheers."

Lestrade sat back, reassured. "All right, Jake. Cheers."

I raised my glass too, and we drank to Lestrade's big promotion. I was still troubled about the whole situation. _Why did the mention of the FBI set Holmes off?_ Lestrade then spotted another officer, gave Holmes a pat on the shoulder, and bid us good night.

Our food had arrived shortly after. One glance at Holmes stopped any attempt on my behalf to initiate conversation, and we began eating in stony silence.

AN: Thanks for all of you who've been following the storyline (One of Those Nights, The Future Past, and now this…).


	2. Ghosts of the FBI Past

AN: The usual disclaimer applies! ACD has first dibs. I'll take the leftovers.

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Chapter 2

We had made it halfway through dinner in silence when we were interrupted yet again, this time by two men I had never seen before. Both of them were clad in similar outfits, dark two-piece suits with white shirts and solid color ties. However, the similarities ended there.

The taller one was extremely thin and lean, with long black hair slicked back and tied neatly in a ponytail. He also sported a small diamond stud in his left ear. Due to his build, I would have pegged him for a surfer if his clothes and demeanor didn't mark him as an FBI agent.

The second man was a middle-sized, strongly built man- square jaw, thick neck, and neatly trimmed dark brown hair. His large brown eyes were twinkling, and he smiled at Holmes like an old friend. "Jake- it's been too long," the second man said.

Given Holmes' outburst regarding the FBI earlier, I was quite baffled about his subsequent reaction to these two men. Holmes looked up at the second man, the one who had spoken, and grasped the man's outstretched hand in a warm handshake. "It has been too long." They exchanged a long look, and then Holmes gestured to me. "Brian, this is Dr. Laura Watson, a good friend of mine. Watson, this is Special Agent Brian Morstan of the FBI."

The one with twinkling brown eyes offered his hand to me, which I shook respectfully. "Just call me Brian."

I smiled, taking in his sincerity. "Then you call me Laura."

"And this," Holmes pointed to the taller man, "is Agent Gary Sholto."

We shook hands briefly. "Care to join us?" I offered. I couldn't deny my curiosity about these two men, whom Holmes seemed to know very well. Given his earlier remark towards Lestrade, Holmes' 360 attitude change was rather intriguing, and I was determined to figure what was going on. _That, and Agent Morstan- Brian- seemed very nice._

"Don't mind if we do," Brian beamed as they slid into the booth, Brian taking the seat next to mine.

"Ma'm, can we get a couple of beers please?" Brian called out to the waitress.

Agent Sholto then spoke for the first time, glancing at Holmes. "Watson and Holmes, huh? That's quick. Maybe we should start calling you Sherlock, Jake."

I suppressed a laugh as Holmes almost choked on his food. "The coincidences don't just end there, Gary," he remarked after he swallowed, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. "If I remember my British lit professor correctly, Sholto and Morstan were also names in a Sherlock Holmes story."

I laughed, unable to keep it in. "And don't forget Lestrade," I quipped.

Jake cast a rare smile my way, while Brian laughed boisterously. "Speaking of which, Jake, you still working with Detective Lestrade?"

Holmes paused, studied the two men, and shook his head carefully. "Not anymore. But you already knew that he would be joining your neck of the woods."

Brian nodded. "Yes."

"Is that why you came down here?"

Brian and Gary glanced at each other before returning their gaze to Holmes. "Actually, that's not the main reason," Brian acknowledged slowly, throwing a sideways glance at me.

I got the message. This conversation was not meant for my ears. "If you all will excuse me…" I started, before I felt Holmes' hand on mine.

"Stay," he commanded.

I couldn't bring myself to refuse the intense expression on Holmes' face. I sat back down.

"So what is it?" Holmes asked, his gaze fixed on Brian.

Brian hesitated, but continued in a soft yet deliberate voice. "We have a new lead on Sebastian's whereabouts."

"Where is he?" Holmes' voice was brusque, businesslike.

It was Gary who spoke next. "New Orleans. He's supposedly working in a bar there of some sort." He slid Holmes a small piece of folded white paper across the table. "That's the name he's using, but there's a chance he's moving soon. What I don't understand is why he's gone back there again, given how close you were to finding him last time."

Holmes' hands began to shake noticeably the moment he picked up the paper, read it, and then tucked it in his back pocket. "I'm on the next flight to New Orleans then." He jabbed his index finger at Brian. "And you don't know anything about it."

Brian shook his head violently, protesting loudly. "No, no, no. You can't do that Jake. You can't just show up in New Orleans and ring his doorbell. Sebastian is a federal _witness_ under US Marshal protection."

Holmes seemed to pause for a moment, allowing Brian to continue. "Gary and I are putting our jobs on the line to pass this information to you, and I'm not about to have the leak traced back to us. Good God, Jake, I'm only a few months away from a full pension."

Holmes was unmoved. "I have to go."

"Jake, don't do what I think you're planning to do," Brian pleaded.

Holmes glared at Brian. "He would have done the same for you," he chided the agent.

Brian cast his eyes down before raising his eyes to meet Holmes'. "I know. But there must be some other way. I know you can come up with something. Promise me. For Jason's sake. He wouldn't want you do it this way."

Holmes settled back into the booth, deep in thought. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke again. "All right," he mumbled under his breath.

An uncomfortable moment of silence passed before Brian and Gary let out their breaths, seemingly convinced that Holmes wasn't going to do anything rash at the moment. Meanwhile, my mind was reeling from the conversation. I was racking my brain trying to figure out where I had heard the name Jason in connection with Holmes before. The waitress brought the two beers Brian had ordered, and we watched Gary down his in a single gulp. Brian's beer remained untouched.

Holmes then changed the subject, trying to break the tension that still lingered. "Anyone up for a game of pool?" Gary accepted the offer, claiming that Holmes was just another old man with illusions of grandeur, while Brian and I declined, remaining at the table. My dinner remained half-eaten, and I waved the waitress over, asking her to box the remainder.

"He speaks very highly of you, you know," Brian casually remarked as soon as the waitress left.

I blushed. _What was I supposed to say to that? He's never mentioned you?_ I settled for calculated disbelief. "I don't believe you."

Brian nodded sincerely. "He did, when I talked with him two weeks ago. Sebastian had just eluded him again. You know about Sebastian, right?"

Brian was studying my features, trying to gauge my reaction. I opted for an honest answer, even though I was dying to pretend otherwise in an effort to fish for more clues. "Not really, no."

Brian glanced at Holmes and his partner, who were both deeply engrossed in their pool game fifty feet away. "Well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you this, since he asked you to stay for the prior conversation."

He wavered a moment before continuing. "Carl Sebastian is a former mobster who turned state's evidence. He was the star witness in the trial of John Gotti, head of the Gambino crime family ten years ago. Long story short, Sebastian's testimony helped put away almost 50 guys, helped New York clear about a dozen unsolved murders, and practically shut down the entire organization."

I was confused. "That's a good thing, right?"

Brian took a long hard sip of his beer before continuing. "It depends on who you ask. The FBI, the Justice Department, the NYPD, the New York Attorney General, they would all say yes. But Jake would say no. The price we paid for Sebastian's information was too high."

"Why?"

"The only way Sebastian would agree to testify was if the pending murder charge against him was dropped and he and his entire family were put into federal witness protection. So we obliged him. New identity, relocation, the works. Plus, he got to keep the forty million dollars he had made over the years illegally."

I still didn't see what the big deal was. "But you FBI guys make this type of deal with mobsters all the time in racketeering cases to get their testimony. What makes this time so different?"

Brian's voice was barely above a whisper, but his next words rang loud and clear in my ear. "Laura, Sebastian was charged with killing one Jason Holmes. Jake's brother."

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AN: Thanks to Silent Beatnik and Kittenchatter- your encouragement prompted me to post this chapter earlier. As far as longer chapters… I'm trying, but I'm used to thinking/writing in short spurts- must be a side effect of watching too much TV.


	3. Another Vacation

AN: ACD owns stuff.

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Chapter 3

So Holmes was after his brother's murderer. But the situation seemed futile, senseless; Carl Sebastian was under US Marshal protection and in the federal witness protection program. Sebastian was basically untouchable.

Yet here was Holmes, still trying to track him down after all these years. As I listened to Brian tell the story, I had to admire Holmes' determination, a quality quite useful to his detective work. But at the same time, I also began to worry: this was unlike any other case I had worked with Holmes on. This time, Holmes was taking this personally.

I gasped inadvertently, as it finally dawned on me where I remembered the name Jason Holmes from. It was the very first case where I had collaborated with Holmes, and we had visited a cemetery- the very cemetery where Jason was buried. _Jason Holmes. His brother's keeper._

"Laura?" Brian's voice cut deep in my thoughts. "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking," I hastily answered.

"About Jake?"

I nodded. "I've never seen him like this."

Brian sighed. "Gary and I debated for all day yesterday whether or not to tell him about Sebastian. But I felt that we owed it to him, hoping it might bring him some closure. After tonight, though, it seems unlikely. I can't have Jake running back to New Orleans to avenge his brother by killing Sebastian. You'll watch out for him, won't you?"

"I already do." I grimaced, thinking back to our most recent case- Moriarty. It seemed like I might be taking another vacation. I crossed my fingers, hoping that Holmes might suffer a momentary bout of amnesia. _Highly unlikely_.

Brian laughed again, throwing his arm around my shoulders, giving me an amiable squeeze. "Yeah, you do, don't you? So tell me, how did you and Holmes catch Moriarty anyway? I heard it was a difficult case."

* * *

"I suppose Brian gave you the spiel on Sebastian." Holmes voice was grating, tinged with pain. He was staring out the window while I wove deftly through the nearly empty downtown streets. We had bid goodbye to Brian and Gary shortly before, as Gary had become rather irked at losing four straight games of pool and wanted to call it a night.

"Yeah."

Holmes was still staring out the passenger window. "Then you know why I have to go."

"I don't think it's a good idea," I ventured, knowing that I'd be catching hell for questioning his judgment.

He laughed bitterly. "Brian has you conspiring against me. Did he tell you to watch out for me?"

I nodded, my face a bit red at the mention of the attractive FBI agent. Brian had asked for my number before Holmes and Gary returned to the table, mumbling something about needing to check up on Holmes. I suspected a different motive, but I was immensely flattered anyway, and gave him both my home and cell phone numbers.

"But you know I'm going."

He could always be so stubborn. "But what are you going to do when you find Sebastian? Do you even know?"

Holmes didn't reply.

I drove on.

* * *

"I'll see you around, I guess," I said to Holmes as I stopped my car in front of his house.

Holmes shook his head. "Highly unlikely. I'm going to be gone for a very long time."

"I mean, after you get back from New Orleans." I watched his features carefully.

"I might not come back," he said deliberately, avoiding my eyes. This was the first time I ever heard the slightest note of uncertainty in his voice, and it unnerved me. This was not the Holmes I knew.

I froze momentarily before blurting out, "Then I'm coming with you." The urgency in my reply took Holmes (and myself) by surprise. _Did I really care for this eccentric man so much that I'd go with him to track his brother's murderer?_ I had no idea what Holmes had in mind. Not to mention I'd be using my hard-earned sick days for what could be characterized as a cross-country revenge plot. But I trusted Holmes implicitly, and this, more than any other time, seemed like a situation where he needed someone.

Holmes' eyes narrowed. "Absolutely not. This is none of your business."

I shook my head furiously. "You're my friend, so that makes this my business. If you're going to New Orleans, I'm coming with you. I won't let you go by yourself."

"No. You're not coming." His tone suggested that it was futile to argue with him.

I, however, was in no mood to acquiesce. "Either you let me come with you and help you, or I'll get on the plane myself and follow you there. Your choice."

"You're not leaving me much of a choice," he remarked dryly.

I shrugged my shoulders innocently. "Just let me help you."

Holmes took a deep breath. "All right. But you need to promise me this."

"What is it?"

"Promise me that you won't get in the middle of Sebastian and me." He raised his hand to silence my protests. "Promise me, Watson. Otherwise, you'll just have to follow me there. New Orleans is an old stomping ground of mine, so I seriously doubt you'll be able to find me as easily as you did in San Francisco."

I sighed. "Okay."

Holmes opened the door and got out. "Go home, pack for two weeks, and meet me back here in three hours. I'll have a plan by then." With that, he slammed the car door and scurried up his long driveway.

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AN: Thanks to Kittenchatter, komikitty, snowwolf for your encouragement! I know these chapters are short, but I'm updating rather frequently… as far as Holmes turning all vigilante… well, we'll see about that, won't we ;)


	4. Holmes' House

AN: ACD owns stuff. Happy 4th of July!

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Chapter 4

Holmes had this incredible ability to detach himself from his cases at hand and completely immerse himself in an entirely different field for hours before returning to his detective work. On the other hand, I had no such ability, and spent most of the drive back to my apartment pondering what Holmes could have in mind.

This made packing extremely difficult. How was I supposed to know what to bring if I had no idea what the plan was? In the end, after staring at an empty suitcase for an hour, I picked up the phone and called Holmes, who answered after six rings.

"I know you're busy, and I hate to interrupt, but I need to know what to pack."

"New Orleans is hot and humid. Think about it." He hung up before I could reply.

_Punk._ Some things never change.

* * *

I rang Holmes' doorbell a few hours later, large suitcase in tow, stuffed to the brim. It was four in the morning. The adrenaline rush was the only thing that was keeping me awake and standing; I was nervous and excited about the upcoming trip to New Orleans, seeing how I had never been.

Holmes opened the door, took my suitcase, set it next to the door, and waved me inside. "Watson. Have a seat."

Gingerly, I stepped into Holmes' residence for the first time. The place, surprisingly, was rather neat. In contrast to the condition of Holmes' car, which was covered with three different layers of dust and filled to the brim with piles of scrap paper, the living room was furnished minimally, with a well-worn brown leather couch, a stately cherry wood desk, and a few antique bookshelves. The hardwood floor complemented the wooden beams that made up the ceiling. There were three picture frames on the mantle above the fireplace.

To the left of the living room was the kitchen, where the granite countertops, stainless steel appliances looked brand new, polished, and unused. Not surprising, considering Holmes could not cook to save his life.

Holmes was currently sitting on the couch, with two manila envelopes in his hand, lost deep in thought. I perched myself on the other end of the couch, trying to wait as patiently as my curiosity would allow.

"Our flight leaves LAX in six hours. I need you to leave your identification- passport, drivers' license- all of that here. In fact, just leave your wallet here. We won't need it."

Was he mad? "What, you want to sneak onto the plane? Where were you when 9/11 happened?"

He handed me the envelope wordlessly. I opened it, emptying its contents- a passport, drivers' license, two credit cards, all in the name of a Laura Young, and all, surprisingly, with my picture. "Are these real?"

He nodded, as he showed me the other envelope. I thumbed through it; this envelope contained a passport, drivers' license, and two more credit cards, all in the name of a Jake Young. All of the identification, however, pictured a man with black hair and gray eyes. _How would Holmes ever manage to pass as this man?_

"Yes. We'll be traveling under these names."

"Where did you get these?"

"Jake Young was the cover I used when Lestrade had me go undercover for the Ramirez case. As for your documents, Lestrade just dropped them off half an hour ago. I assure you, these are all real."

"But why do we need to go through this business of using fake names?"

Jake's reply was strained. "Watson, do you think that Sebastian doesn't know who I am or why I'm looking for him? The only way that I'll be able to get close enough is by going undercover- which means you'll have to take on a fake identity too. Look, if you've changed your mind, you can leave now."

I shook my head. "No way. I'm going with you. Just tell me who I need to pretend to be."

Holmes wore an expression of neutrality, but I suspected there was a smirk lurking somewhere behind the dispassionate facade. "My wife."

The color drained from my face. Did I hear him right? Was I supposed to pretend to be his wife for two weeks? I bit hard on my lip, trying to consider whether or not it was too late to back out of my promise to go with him. I considered Holmes to be a very good friend, someone I would do almost anything for, but for some reason, I was rather uneasy about playing his wife. I didn't think he had forgotten about my outburst in San Francisco, where I had as much as admitted to him that I cared for him.

"Watson?" Holmes broke the awkward silence. "Believe me, I'd rather us be brother and sister, but we don't look the part. Plus, pretending to be a couple will be more useful undercover." The smirk that was still tugging at the corners of his stoic expression suggested he did this on purpose, but I was unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. So, what else do you need me to do?"

Holmes then grimaced, and held up a box to me. "This."

I broke out laughing. It was a box of semi-permanent hair dye- in black.

* * *

Holmes told me a little bit more about the plan as I worked the dye through his hair (even combing a bit of the dye through this eyebrows). We would spend days trying to find Sebastian by tracing his family members, and nights combing through bars where Sebastian worked. Given his cover as Jake Young, up and rising drug lord and crime boss, and given that we really didn't look anything like brother and sister, Holmes tried to convince me (I was still doubtful and argued otherwise, but in the end, just let the matter drop) that it would make much more sense for me to pose as his wife, as it would alleviate any suspicions that Sebastian might have. Holmes also went on to estimate that it wouldn't take us more than two weeks to find him. As to what would happen after we found him, I didn't want to ask, and Holmes didn't venture any answers.

As Holmes rinsed his hair, dressed, and got ready, I amused myself by examining his living room more closely. The bookshelves were filled to the brim with books on chess, fencing, boxing, and- you guessed it- scrapbooks of possibly every single crime, murder, grotesque experience in Los Angeles from recent years. Moriarty- my _lovely_ ex husband- was so prolific he had an entire scrapbook dedicated to himself.

Three piles of papers were stacked on the cherry wood desk. As I took a closer glance, one of them seemed to deal with the recent Ricardo Ramirez case; the other two were labeled "Jason" in Holmes' even hand.

The three picture frames on the mantle were the most telling, personal items in the entire house. While his devotion to solving crime was more than evident by his scrapbook collection, the three pictures were the first glimpse I had ever had into Holmes' personal life.

The first was a picture of Holmes and another man, whom I presumed was his brother. They shared the same piercing eyes, hawk-like nose, and unruffled light brown hair. The major difference was the large friendly grin on the other man's face, a direct contrast to Holmes' own smile in the picture, which never seemed to reach his eyes.

The second picture was one of four men, Holmes, Brian, Gary, and Holmes' brother, taken at some formal function. All four of the men were dressed in tuxes. Brian and Holmes' brother had equally large smiles stretching across their faces, and while Gary wasn't smiling, his eyes seemed to reflect the same amusement. Holmes, however, looked rather out of the place, the smile on his lips looking rather contrived, his eyes rather haunted.

The third picture was that of an older couple. Given at how closely the man looked like Holmes, I suspected this picture was that of Holmes' parents. The woman, on the other hand, reminded me more of Holmes' brother, complete with cheerful laugh and twinkling eyes.

"Which one do you think I look more like?"

I continued to stare at the pictures, even as I felt Holmes come up behind me. "Your father."

"That's what Jason had said too. But they passed away when I was young, and I never really knew them."

I turned around. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged, changing the subject. "So, do you think I look like Jake Young now?" He was dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, an off-white shirt and red tie, complete with gold cufflinks. His hair, a formerly light brown color, was now a striking black, slicked neatly back, matching his tan complexion better. He had also donned a pair of gold rimmed glasses, which didn't hide his piercing eyes, formerly a light brown, now a brooding gray.

"Contacts," he said, answering my unvoiced question.

I found my voice. "Yeah, just add one of those spiffy gold plated walking sticks and you'll pass as a Mafioso."

He grinned. "That might be overdoing it, though I'm sure I could make it work. But I can pass as a crime boss, right?"

"Or a pimp," I snickered.

Holmes gave me a nasty look. "Come on. We'll need to leave now if we want to catch our flight."

I grinned, feeling triumphant. This was going to be an interesting trip.

* * *

AN: Hope everyone had a Happy 4th of July! Thanks for the love (Kittenchatter- well, ok, I promise they'll _really_ be on their way in the next chapter; snowwolf- I know, this chapter might have been even sadder; softbalchick181- thanks! I'm so flattered!) from all my reviewers…


	5. Just one Surprise after Another

AN: For all of the faithful; thanks for sticking with this story :)

Chapter 5

I had never been so nervous checking in and going through security at the airport as I was that particular early morning. I was positive that I'd be pulled over and frisked, questioned at gunpoint, and thrown in jail for carrying false identification. Holmes tried to reassure me by patting me on the back, but it didn't help; rather, I became even more nervous. The pit in my stomach continued to grow, until finally Holmes pulled me to one side after we passed the second security checkpoint, and were on our way toward the gate.

"Laura. It's still not too late to go back, you know." His eyes, normally cold and distant, were unreadable.

I shook my head slowly. "I'm coming with you."

"Then you need to stop hyperventilating."

I swallowed uneasily. "All right, Holmes." I took a slow, deep breath.

He shook his head. "Not Holmes. Start calling me Jake, or you might slip up."

I nodded. "Ok, Jake." The name even felt foreign on my tongue. I could feel myself tensing up again.

After a moment of hesitation, he reached over and grasped my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. "Let's go, wifey. I hear New Orleans is very hot this time of the year." He winked at me.

I blushed, and did my best to suppress my giggles. _Wifey?_ If this was his way of putting me more at ease, I didn't mind one single bit.

* * *

We arrived at New Orleans around eleven in the morning. I was starving and still exhausted, even though I slept the entire plane ride. The airport was rather crowded when we arrived, but Holmes managed to maneuver us deftly through the crowds; before I knew it, we were standing at the airport curb waiting for our ride to the hotel. 

Holmes had been playing the "dotingphysically affectionate husband"since we had stepped off the plane. As we were waiting, his arm was snaked comfortably around my waist, while I held my carry-on in front of me with both my hands. I was still nervous about the whole thing, as he still hadn't told me what the plan was. That, plus the mere physical proximity of my crush object made for a very- uh, uncomfortable- wait.

I was slightly surprised when a flashy electric blue BMW M3 stopped right in front of us, being driven by a very attractive female with flaming red hair down to her waist and legs that went on forever. She stood a good 5'7", clad in a scanty leopard print top and a black mini skirt with knee high boots. My jaw almost dropped when she got out of the car and walked towards us with a huge smile.

"Hello, Jake," she purred. 'It's so good to see you again." She threw her arms around him and planted a feathery kiss on his cheek.

I didn't miss the slight blush creeping up on Holmes' face as he tried to disentangle himself. "Hello, Maggie. I missed you too."

They were staring into each other's eyes like long lost lovers. I cleared my throat, suddenly wide awake.

Holmes gathered himself, shaking himself free from her arms. "Uh, Maggie, this is Laura. Laura, this is Maggie."

I plastered a fake smile on my face and offered my hand. "It's a pleasure," I managed to say through gritted teeth.

She shook it heartedly, and addressed her comment to Holmes. "How'd you manage to land yourself this one, Jake?"

It had only been two minutes, and I found myself really disliking this girl.

Holmes stifled a laugh as he observed my face scrunch up inadvertently (hey, I can only be polite for so long). "Aw Mags, come on. Don't scare my wife like that."

I smirked as I saw her eyes bulge in surprise. "Jake Young! I never got an invitation," she managed to sputter.

Holmes shrugged his shoulders as he popped open the trunk and loaded the luggage. "I never mix my personal and business matters, Mags. You of all people should know this."

She laughed in agreement. "Hop in, guys. I'll take you to your hotel."

I don't remember much of what was said on the ride to the hotel. Holmes and Maggie were pointing out various landmarks of New Orleans to me, but the prior exhaustion I was feeling resurfaced with a vengeance, and I fell asleep after we passed the Superdome.

* * *

"Laura." I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. "Wake up." I rubbed my eyes briefly, and noticed that the car had stopped, and was parked in front of an elegant hotel entrance. Holmes had opened the door and was gesturing for me to get out of the car. I took Holmes' outstretched hand and gingerly stepped out of the car, eyes trying to adjust to the bright noontime sun. 

Maggie, the annoyingly perky redhead, emerged from the hotel's grand entrance and handed Holmes a large manila envelope. "Inside are your hotel keys and some papers from Carlos. He says he wants to hear from you in two days."

Holmes accepted the package, and smiled warmly at Maggie. "Thanks Mags. Send him my best."

Maggie suddenly seemed like she couldn't wait to leave. "All right, dahling, I'll see you in a few days. And Laura, make sure you keep him in line. Ciao, Jake!" She blew a kiss at Holmes, got back into her car and peeled away.

I cast an annoyed look over at Holmes. "When were you going to tell me about her?"

Holmes chuckled. "Maggie is an interesting girl."

I couldn't resist scoffing. "Understatement of the year."

He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. "Watson, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you were jealous."

My face flushed and I gulped. _Was I that transparent?_ "As if. I just don't like being… broadsided like that. I mean, how was I supposed to know what to say- or not say- to her? You really need to fill me in, because otherwise, I'm just here," I gushed, trying to cover my embarrassment.

He nodded, agreeing. "All right. But let's unpack first, and then I'll go over what your role is. But I'd rather not discuss this in the hotel, if that's all right with you."

I smiled. "Sure thing. But can we get some food before we unpack? I'm starving."

Holmes grinned. "Don't worry. This will be some of the best food you'll ever have."

* * *

Holmes began to sketch out the details of his plan over lunch. "You have to understand, that I'm operating as Jake Young here. This persona I adopt- he started out dabbling in narcotics, and made his name in cocaine. That history has been concocted by Lestrade for me to use when going undercover a few months ago. Now, my story is that I'm looking to make my name bigger. Dealing weapons." 

"Weapons?" I squeaked, jambalaya soup temporarily forgotten.

"Yes, bioweapons. A much bigger profit margin for the same risks running drugs."

"I don't see what this has to do with Sebastian." I was really confused. What did Holmes want with biological agents?

"I got a tip. Carl Sebastian is looking for a supplier."

I put my spoon down as my mind began to work in hyperdrive. "You mean-"

"Yes, Laura. He's still knee deep in criminal activity- and what's worse, is that the locals can't do anything about it because he's being _protected_," Holmes spat out with an intensehatred I had never heard.

I swallowed uneasily, dreading the answer to my next question. "So what type of biological agent is he looking for?"

Holmes looked around nervously before taking a pen out of his pocket, jotting something down on his napkin and pushing the napkin across the table at me.

I picked it up. Written in Holmes' precise handwriting was a single word that shocked me to the very core of my body- _anthrax_.

* * *

AN: Again, I apologize for the huge delay. I just hope that my portrayal of modern day Holmes' isn't too out of character, but this idea has been churning in my head for a long time... 

Afew personalized notes of thanks: Horsefeathers103: Thanks, I tried to incorporate the old stuff as much as possible into my stories- this one, however, will be a deviation from any of Doyle's stuff (I mean, can you imagine bioterror back in Victorian England?); brdtpst: Thanks for the many reviews you left- hahah, I don't want to give too much detail because I want to leave some stuff up to your imagination; Cap'n Cory: I really appreciate your encouragement!; Jilla de la Rio: yes, the bar bit was something I've wanted to write for a long time, I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did; Kittenchatter: oh my faithful reviewer- your compliments mean so much! Yes, they are on their way...


	6. Not Every Woman Wants to Sleep With You

AN: Happy early Christmas! ACD owns anything resembling H&W.

Chapter 6

I shook my head slowly. "You don't want to mess with this shit, Holmes. Do you have any idea what this will fucking do to you if you screw up?" I could feel my voice rising an octave and turning shrill.

He glared at me. "Keep it down, will you? Just listen to the rest of my plan."

I bit my lip to keep myself from saying more.

"Listen, Laura. We're just going to be setting him up, ok? With the advent of Homeland Security and the way Justice is set up right now, if Sebastian gets caught trying to purchase biological agents, he's a dead man. Gone, locked away for good. There's no FBI protection for that, no matter what he did in the past. It's what he deserves."

"I don't think you're hearing me, Jake." I sighed. "Anthrax is extremely dangerous to handle and the there is a very high fatality rate once infection happens. This is very different than playing with a gun."

He shrugged. "Look, I'm just setting up a trap, Laura, what could possible go wrong?"

The man was seriously daft. "Are you kidding me? First off, how are you going to get a specimen and culture of the stuff? Then, how do you plan on contact the right people to make sure he gets caught red-handed? Logistics aside, I don't even know if you know how it works and how to handle something as dangerous as anthrax spores. You might infect yourself or anyone who comes in contact with you. Honestly, Holmes, this is hands down the worst idea you've ever had."

His jaw clenched and his steely eyes bore right through me. "Anything else, Watson?" he hissed testily.

I shook my head. "If this is what your plan is, I don't know why I'm here."

"Feel free to leave at any time. If I may refresh your memory, doctor, you were the one who insisted on coming," he snarled.

"I came to stop you from doing something you'll regret for the rest of your life, Jake. You are not a criminal. But what you're proposing to do… what if you get caught?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Only if someone turns me in- and if that's how you feel, then so be it. Just a betrayal on your part, of course."

That really hurt. _Was I always going to be untrustworthy to every man in my life?_ I took a deep breath and gathered myself; I didn't want to let Holmes have the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. So I changed tactics. "Holmes, I'm not trying to throw you behind bars. It's just that I just think your plan could use some ah, fine-tuning."

"What do you mean? I'm open to suggestions, Laura." The spitefulness had immediately dissipated from his voice, and he seemed genuinely interested. I had piqued his interest.

I racked through my accumulated knowledge of infectious diseases before I landed on a particularly useful piece of information. "You don't have to supply him with actual anthrax, you know."

His brows narrowed. "Go on."

"Inhalational anthrax is caused by a bacterium- specifically _Bacillus anthracis_. The 2001 attacks by mail were very deadly and dangerous. But that wasn't the first time _Bacillus anthracis _was used in an attempted biological terror attack. There were a few other times before that, and those attacks did not end up being deadly. In fact, no one even got sick in 1993 in the Kameido Tokyo incident even though spores were released into a huge crowd."

"I don't see your point." He began tapping his foot impatiently.

"My point is, dear Holmes, there are multiple strains of _Bacillus anthracis_, and you can supply him with a completely innocuous strain, and there would be no way he would be able to tell."

I don't think I have ever won an argument with my dear friend Jake Holmes, but that day at lunch was the closest I ever came. As I watched the features on his face gradually relax, I breathed a sigh of relief (crisis adverted!) before adding, "The innocuous strain and the disease inducing strain are microscopically similar and the spore formation is virtually identical. The only way you'd be able to tell them apart would be either to sequence the genomes or to actually test it on your subjects and watch the results."

His face broke into a rare smile as he settled back into his chair. "This will work out even better than I thought. He'll still come under question for attempting to purchase biological agents, even if it's the harmless strain… Honestly, Watson, what would I do without you?"

My face turned the color of my untouched jambalaya soup, as I was rendered speechless by his casually strewn compliment.

Holmes didn't seem to notice as he became preoccupied with his lunch. After some moments of silence, he then asked (through a mouthful of banana rum pie), "Are you up for some sightseeing tonight?"

"Tonight? Where?"

"The French Quarter. There are a number of bars on Bourbon Street there we can check out. Sebastian is working as a bartender, as you know."

I beamed at the thought of finally being in New Orleans and the chance to be immersed in the numerous jazz clubs in the Quarter, even though I recognized the undertone of hard core sleuth work. "That'd be great."

Holmes' voice shifted in tone, indicating the discussion was over. "So, how's the jambalaya?"

"You're right, this is some of the best food I've ever had." I smiled before raising another spoonful to my mouth.

* * *

When I first opened the door to the hotel room, the first thing I noticed was the bed. Or rather, the lack of the second one. Even though I found myself growing more comfortable with pretending to be Mrs.Young, I was not prepared for the idea that we might have to share a bed. I had slept alone for years.

I turned around to face Holmes, who had just closed the door behind him. "Uh, is that part of the plan?" I pointed at the bed.

Holmes arched an eyebrow, his face expressionless. "What?"

"That." When he still didn't answer, I spelled it out for him. "The bed. You know, how there's only one bed?" Not wanting him to see me blushing, I turned around to face the bed again, with my back toward him.

I swear, a good five minutes passed before it seemed to finally dawned on him what I was saying. Then he began to laugh. "If it bothers you so much, I'll sleep on top of the sheets."

Before I could mutter my thanks, he continued, coming up behind me, leaning in and whispering in my ear. "But really, Laura, how can you pull off a convincing Mrs. Young if you won't even let me sleep under the sheets?"

I whirled around. "You egotistical punk. Not every woman wants to sleep with you," I sputtered indignantly. _Well, maybe I did, but he didn't have to hear about that._

He laughed heartedly before switching the subject. "So, Laura, for tonight. Do you have something appropriate to wear?"

"Like what?"

"None of the stuff you normally wear. More like, what Maggie wears."

I snickered. "Slut ho clothes?"

"What have you got against her, anyway? She's been very useful."

This was too easy. "Really? In what way?" I suppressed my grin.

"Maggie works for Carlos Ramirez, a hotshot drug smuggler based here in New Orleans. She's been very helpful in getting me a meeting with Ramirez," Holmes explained, oblivious to my implied meaning. "I met her when I was undercover for Lestrade."

"So why are you connecting with Ramirez? I thought that you were thinking of branching out, into biological agents."

Holmes nodded. "According to Maggie, Carlos is looking into branching out into biological agents. He has the equipment and laboratory set up; he just needs a go-to guy. A salesman, if you will."

"You."

"Yes. I have a meeting with Carlos in two days about this. In the meantime, we need to find out everything we can about what Sebastian is up to. And to do that, I need you to dress appropriately. We'll be hitting a lot of trendy bars and clubs tonight. You know what appropriate wear is, right? I would like us to blend in."

I sighed. "Yes, _dear._" I grinned inwardly as I realized I didn't pack any "Maggie-style" clothes. What better excuse was there than to go out shopping for the rest of this afternoon? "I'll see you later then. I didn't pack anything appropriate, so I'm going to hit the streets."

Holmes had taken the opportunity to collapse in the bed, and waved me off. "Be back by seven, _pumpkin._"

I rolled my eyes at the unmistakable sarcasm in his voice, grabbed my purse, hotel key, and let myself out.

AN: Thanks a bunch to my reviewers! **Kenta**** Divina**- I'm glad that you're back and thanks again for the support (knowing that this is more exciting than homework is a great compliment). With regards to the jealously, well, you'll have to wait and see :-D. **Pinkpanther**- yay! you're back. Hope this will tide you over for a while! **QueenofSpain**- I'm glad that you're still sticking with it. I may not be the most avid poster, but I do finish my stories eventually. So here's an update- much sooner than last time! **MaskedPhantom**- hahah, you guessed it! I had to put in a sharing the bed awkward moment :-D **Kittenchatter**- So many of you caught the little cocaine reference (made me smile quite a bit as I realize you all are reading all these details) and yes, emotionally awkward the entire time. I also didn't mean to make Mags so incredibly unlikeable, but she will serve a purpose later on. Thanks for your unwavering support! **Jepa****-** thanks for keeping with this story for so long! I hope you enjoy the development of their relationship… **snowwolf**- hey my old faithful! here's an update for you- and don't worry, Brian will reappear soon, I just figured we need some Watson and Holmes time first. Yes, the bit about the family I threw in there because I promised you all some background into Holmes' life (yes, I know it doesn't really correspond with the real ACD Holmes). **horsefeathers103**- I'm glad you enjoy my story so much, and thanks for being so understanding about my infrequent posting, but here's an update for you. Again, you guys are so awesome, catching the little cocaine reference I tossed in there- makes me want to continually work on my writing as I know you're all reading all the details :-D.


	7. Use Your Assets

Chapter 7

I returned to the hotel room around seven, after a rather productive shopping experience. Even though I didn't find the clothes I purchased particularly endearing (translation: I wouldn't be caught dead in them normally), I figured that they would serve the purpose of club appropriate wear quite well. I even planned ahead and bought multiple outfits, as I figured we would be bar hopping multiple nights. And, if I could tell anything about Maggie (who I was supposed to emulate for a few nights), it would be that she would never be caught dead in the same outfit.

In the room, Holmes had taken over the high-backed chair, his feet propped on the desk, and was completely immersed in some papers.

"Hey, Jake," I greeted him, as I set the shopping bags down by the closet and proceeded to put away the clothes.

He seemed rather engrossed, as he didn't even look up from whatever he was doing. "Laura. I hope you found something appropriate to wear. We'll be hitting most of Bourbon Street in a bit."

"What about dinner?" my stomach had began to murmur its dissent, and I really wanted to get some food before I went bar hopping (as unpleasant memories of drinking without eating began to resurface).

"I need to stay in and finish looking over these papers from Carlos, so I ordered room service already. It should be here any moment."

"Did you get anything for me?"

He looked up, slightly offended. "Do I really seem so heartless to you? I'm not going to let you starve."

I laughed lightly. "Thanks, Holmes."

"It's Jake, Laura," he corrected, without a trace of his usual smugness, as he immersed himself in the papers again.

I bit my lip, and continued to hang up clothes, briefly pondering what my role was tonight before a quick knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

Holmes got up from his chair, and answered the door. He pushed the room service cart into the room a few minutes later, and began taking the lids of the dishes. "So how about some dinner?" Holmes asked me.

"Sure, what did you order?"

He grinned. "Lots of good stuff." I was greeted by a flavorful aroma of various colorful dishes. One absolute delight about this trip would have to be the meals- I'd never had such wonderful food in my life.

* * *

Dinner with Holmes that night was quite a treat after he put down the papers. We chatted about everything not pertaining to the case at hand. He regaled me with stories of his childhood, about stories of the misadventures of his brother and himself. He was a fabulous storyteller, with plenty of anecdotes about Brian and his brother as rookie FBI agents. It was one of the most pleasant (and surprisingly superficial) conversations I had ever had with Holmes.

He was charming, attentive, and a good listener throughout all of dinner. If he wasn't Holmes, if I wasn't in New Orleans to prevent Holmes from doing something rash and avenging his brother's death, and if our friendship wasn't based solely around crimes and catching criminals, I would have called it a _date._ I found myself becoming more smitten by the minute. _Dangerous territory_¸ I kept trying to remind myself. The reality of the situation, I scolded my daydreaming tendencies, was that this was all just _pretend._

But it didn't work. Not being able to stop myself from staring starry-eyed at Holmes as he launched into another tale, I finally excused myself to get ready for the night, locking myself in the bathroom. I put quite an effort in making myself look "appropriate," even putting on makeup and putting my hair up in hot rollers.

I emerged from the bathroom fully dressed forty minutes later, clad in a skimpy low cut burgundy halter top and dark jeans that clung tightly to me. My hair fell in soft waves to my shoulders, and I was wearing a thick layer of makeup.

Holmes had gone back to the same papers, perched in the same high-backed chair. However, he had changed into a gray collared shirt (that he left unbuttoned around his neck) and black pants, his long legs propped up on the table in front of him. I swallowed nervously, realizing that it was going to be a very long, emotionally awkward night. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome tonight, and I was swooning. Even if it was just _pretend_.

"Is this what you mean by appropriate?" I managed to eek out, anxious about what his reaction would be.

He looked up from the papers, his gaze settling on me. I felt rather uncomfortable, as I felt like he was scrutinizing me from head to toe. I expected him to pass a judgment quickly, per usual, but he just kept staring.

"Well?" I pressed, after a few minutes, feeling like I was about to burst.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah." _Was it my imagination, or did I just hear some nervousness in his voice?_ "You look - appropriate."_ Why would he be nervous?_

He stood up and crossed the room to me. "Ready to go?" He reached into the closet and handed me my coat and purse.

I nodded and put on my coat and took my purse, and followed him wordlessly out of the hotel room. It looked to be a long night.

* * *

Holmes wasn't kidding when he said we would be hitting a lot of the bars on Bourbon Street. It was a Thursday night in the French Quarter, and the area was bustling, full of throngs of people out for a good time. The plan, Holmes explained to me, was to figure out if Carl Sebastian, posing under the name Jack Johnson, was a bartender in the establishment, and if so, when his hours were. The best way to do that, he tried to persuade me, was for me to charm it out of the current bartender on duty.

After the second establishment, Holmes pulled me aside. "You're not doing it right, Laura."

"What do you mean?" I was pretty miffed. From what I figured, I managed to do so just fine- both the bartenders answered in the negative.

He shook his head. "It's taking too long for you to chat with them. We need to speed up if we're going to finish the list tonight."

"How would you propose doing it better?" I was rather miffed. Here I was working my butt off (while Holmes had the easy job of scoping out the establishment and chatting with bouncers and security guards and other staff), and he still had complaints.

Holmes sighed. "You know, use your…" _was he blushing?_ "-assets," he finished, his face _scarlet._

I almost choked on the beer I was drinking. "Sure, ok." I stammered. If I wasn't so shocked, I would have laughed myself back to Los Angeles.

Holmes recovered quite nicely. "That way, you won't have to spend all this time trying to justify why you're looking for him. They'll think it's just a- what do you call, it, a booty call?"

I raised my eyebrows, but couldn't say anything, as I was afraid I'd just burst out laughing and be unable to continue the rest of the night. I was going to be acting like Holmes' little prostitute. Of course, it'd fit into his persona as Jake Young quite well, but boy, he'd owe me big time.

The next establishment we went into, I made sure the bartender, an oversized burly man with a hairy chest no different than a chimpanzee, got a good look at my cleavage as I leaned suggestively over the bar when I inquired about the whereabouts of Jack Johnson. Holmes was right, as the answers to my questions came much faster. I didn't even have to answer any nosy questions about why I was looking for the bastard bartender.

* * *

At around two in the morning, Holmes was still charging ahead at full steam. I was getting really tired and ready to head back to the hotel, but we didn't have anything to show for a whole night's sleuth work.

Holmes, despite all his faults, could be rather perceptive about the well-being of those around him. "You ready to head back, Laura? You seem tired." We were in the second to last establishment on his list for tonight. The bartender had just answered negative to all Jack Johnson questions, and Holmes had joined me at the bar after talking to some security staff. The bar was also beginning to empty.

I shrugged. "I'm ok. One more, right?" I was holding my seventh beer of the night, and I was starting to get really sleepy.

Holmes smiled gratefully at me as he traded the beer in my hand for a bottle of water. "You're too tired. Let's go." He offered me his arm, and I, tipsy from a whole night's worth of bar hopping, took it, and the two of us headed back to the hotel.

* * *

When we arrived back at our room, I headed straight for the shower, wishing to wash away all traces of the night's drudgery. I wasn't used to spending my nights working bars, and was eternally grateful for the strong jets of steaming hot water.

"So what's the plan?" I asked, fully content after a long shower. Holmes had taken up the high-backed chair again, his eyes half-closed, brow furrowed slightly.

He handed me a sheet of paper. "Here's the list for tomorrow. We'll hit the bars in the hotels in the morning, and these restaurants in the afternoon. Then the nightclubs after that. Make sure to bring a change of clothes- I don't want you wearing the same thing the whole day. It'd draw too much attention to you."

I nodded, indicating my understanding. Holmes then got up, walked past me, and locked himself in the bathroom. I heard the shower running, and I took the opportunity to turn off the lights, climb into the bed, making a point to be under the sheets, and close to the edge of the bed as possible.

I felt myself drifting off by the time Holmes got of the bathroom and got into bed. True to his word, he slept on top of the sheets, albeit under the comforter. Not that I was complaining- it had already been a difficult night, and I didn't need the temptation.

* * *

Holmes and I spent the next day and night scouring the rest of New Orleans' bars, restaurants, and nightclubs in and around the Quarter, but still failed to come up with the whereabouts of Carl Sebastian, aka Jack Johnson. Holmes became more and more impatient as the number of bars visited increased, but we still didn't get any answers. The meeting tomorrow with drug dealer turned bioweapons connoisseur Ramirez, Maggie's boss was the unofficial impending deadline, and Holmes, on the day before the meeting, still had no idea of what Sebastian was up to.

Frustrated, he had left the hotel room before I woke up on the day of the meeting, leaving me a short note stating that he would be back by five in the afternoon, right before the dinner meeting with Ramirez. The list of bars for me to visit today was attached. Oh, and PS. I was on my own for lunch.

I crawled back into bed, hoping that I could get an extra ten minutes of sleep after reading the note, as the two consecutive late nights were beginning to catch up with me. We had stopped by so many places yesterday that when I woke up this morning, I prayed that there was an end in sight to New Orlean's numerous bars. Unfortunately, Holmes just kept coming up with longer lists, as evidenced by the long list he left beside this morning, which he wanted me to hit today (by myself, I presumed).

I could sense his desperation, as last night, he was just irritable and frankly, very cranky. I didn't have any ideas about how we could have shortened this aspect of the investigation, but I stayed in bed for a few minutes, pondering possible courses of action. Holmes could still technically get away with going to the Ramirez meeting before knowing what Sebastian was up to. But Holmes was also not the type to do anything without adequate information.

My thoughts were interrupted by my cell phone ringing. Groaning, I picked it up, crossing my fingers and hoping that it wasn't Holmes, and that he didn't have a sudden epiphany that involved adding fifty more places to my list. It looked to be the start of a very bad day.

"Dr. Watson," I mumbled groggily.

A familiar deep voice greeted me. "Good morning Laura. This is Brian."

I blinked, still half not quite awake, before I realized who it was. "Agent Morstan?"

"Call me Brian, please. So how is New Orleans, Laura? Are you and Jake having fun?"

"You know we're here?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Oh, Laura. You're so cute. Yes, I knew that Jake would go the moment I told him. I was just surprised that you'd go with him."

"Well, you told me to watch out for him, remember?" I sat up, trying to clear my head.

Brian's laugh was infectious. "Yeah, I remember. Anyway, how's it all going? How are you holding up?"

I went on to fill Brian in on the unsuccessful search for Sebastian, and Holmes' current depression. I deliberately left out the bit about Ramirez, Maggie, anthrax, and anything that might remotely sound criminal. Surprisingly, Brian was very understanding, and didn't seem to object once to how we were looking for Sebastian. It seemed a far cry from that night at Pedro's in Los Angeles, when he insisted that Holmes would not go looking for Sebastian.

Brian seemed to be holding back, and I figured it was worth a shot to try and figure it out. "Are you still in LA?" I asked coolly after there was a pause in the conversation.

He seemed surprised. "Actually, I'm not," he admitted.

"You're in New Orleans yourself, right?" I grinned. Guys like Brian were an easy read, even over the phone.

"Actually, I am. But how did you know? Does Jake know?" He seemed flustered. _Oh, how the tables have turned._

I laughed to myself. "Actually, I guessed. I haven't told Jake yet. Should I tell him that you actually followed him to New Orleans?"

"Don't you dare." Brian tried to sound menacing, but failed miserably.

I grinned, playing my trump card. "Then tell me where Sebastian is. Look, Brian, Jake's not planning anything illegal. He just needs closure. Aren't you his friend? Don't you want Jake to put this behind him?"

Silence. I waited patiently. "Please?" I added in a sugary voice. "It'd mean so much to me too."

His voice was gruff, but relenting. "I'll see what I can do." And Brian hung up.

I grinned. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

AN: Thanks to my reviewers! You guys have been such good motivation. Good news- I've finally sat down and figured out most of the plot kinks and twists and what not, so the chapters should be coming much faster, especially since I wrote the ending already (I have a habit of writing the ending before I finish the story, so I have sort of a motivation to tie the whole story together and finish it). So, onward!

**Kittenchatter**- Yeah, Jake can be so stupidly stubborn at times… and here's a longer chapter (I think) for ya. Personally, I love writing Maggie, because she's always in the spotlight. Hope you enjoyed Jake's reaction, even if it was slightly delayed.

**Cap'n**** Cory**- Yay, YOU'RE BACK! Glad you're enjoying this story so far. I try to add as much as I can of the 19th century Holmes as I can, to keep this fanfiction, and to keep his character in check. Especially hard to do so with this story because it's labeled romance…

**snowwolf**- Yeah, sorry to load up on the anthrax info- can you tell what I'm leaning about in school?

**Kenta**** Divina**- I totally agree with you- _pumpkin!?!_ It's just to indicate how inept Jake is with these things :-P. I'd love to write more about their relationship and all the angst/awkwardness on Laura's part, but as a hint for the future, I suppose, it's time to get on with the rest of the story, anthrax, bad guys, certain FBI agents, and double crossings (gasp!) are yet to come…

**Queen of Spain**- Thanks for the encouragement (especially with updating!).


	8. Do You Trust Me?

Chapter 8

I had gone through about three different bars on Holmes' list that morning before Brian called me back. Carl Sebastian, aka, Jack Johnson, was working at French Quarter Bar in the Ritz Carlton, right on Canal Street. In fact, he would be on shift tonight and tomorrow night. I thanked Brian profusely for the information, and assured him repeatedly that a) this would not get back to Holmes, and b) I would call him back and keep him up to date. The entire conversation was difficult for me, as I was really uncomfortable lying to Brian, especially since he was being so nice.

Holmes was not answering his cell, so I had to be content with simply leaving a voicemail imploring him to call me back. Left with nothing else to do until I heard back from Holmes, I rented a car, and spent the rest of the afternoon at Oak Alley Plantation, a historical home just outside the city with giant oak trees that lined the front walkway of the house.

* * *

After I returned from my sightseeing, Holmes and I went to a dinner meeting with drug dealer Carlos Ramirez and his sidekick Maggie. Ramirez was very different from what I expected; he was an impeccably dressed, slightly heavyset older gentleman, about 60 years old, articulate, and very polite. In fact, the whole evening threw every expectation I had about drug dealing out the window. Most of the conversation throughout dinner was casual, simple small talk about sports, music, movies, and even the weather. Anyone nearby would have thought that we were just friends out for a night of fun.

It wasn't until after dinner, when we got back in Maggie's car, that real reason for this meeting was even discussed. Holmes and Ramirez were sitting in the back, and I was riding in the passenger seat.

Holmes was first to start the conversation. "I know of someone looking for some spores."

"Who?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that. He just wants to know if you can supply him, and if so, he wants this to be a lasting relationship."

"I don't work with people I don't know, Jake. You're only here because you came recommended by Maggie."

Holmes pressed on. "I know you're in a tight spot, Carlos. In fact, I know that you're currently looking for a reliable microbiologist to check your strains for you since your original one left you for the Arabs. I can help you with that if you'll set up a meeting with my friend."

Ramirez scoffed. "What do you know of strains?"

Holmes chuckled. "I don't, but my wife does."

_Damn him._

Holmes continued, "A meeting, Carlos, and you'll have the rest of your supply verified."

"What's your angle, Jake? Because no one plays middleman without something in it for them. No one's that much of a friend."

Holmes' reply was chilling. "I'd like two small vials of it myself, as insurance." It took all of my self control not to scream at Holmes at that moment; instead, I settled for biting down on my bottom lip.

Ramirez laughed. "Done. You and your wife come by the lab tomorrow, and tell your friend he has a meeting for tomorrow night. Maggie will be your contact for the particulars."

The car came to a stop in front of our hotel. "Good night, Carlos." Holmes got of the car, and I took this as an appropriate signal to get out of the car myself, nodding politely to Maggie before closing the door. We watched the car speed off, and Holmes proceeded to head into the hotel.

I stayed rooted to where I was standing, not believing what I had just heard earlier in the car.

"What's wrong?" Holmes had noticed that I didn't follow him in, and had come back out.

I shook my head slowly. "I can't believe you. I told you how dangerous that stuff was, and you volunteer me to check it, and then, you ask for some of it yourself. Were you not listening to anything I was saying?" My voice had stayed surprisingly calm, yet I was straining to speak and not just scream at Holmes.

Holmes' face hardened. "Let's discuss this somewhere else Laura."

I was incredulous. "Do you think there's anything to discuss? Last time I checked, we had this conversation already, Jake."

"Let's go." Holmes grabbed my left forearm, and began to steer me down the street. "Like I said, not here," he hissed.

His grip on my arm was maddening, and I was practically being pulled down the street, having to partly run in my heels just so that I wouldn't be fully dragged down the street. "All right, we'll discuss it," I acquiesced after a block, when we reached an intersection. "Where?"

Holmes let my arm go and turned around. "There's a coffee shop a couple of blocks away. It's pretty famous. Café du Monde. They have really good coffee, you know."

I nodded, afraid to speak. He had never been this caustic, this raw, this _angry_ before, and I didn't like it in the least bit. It was like he was a completely different person.

He offered me his hand. "Come on."

I shook my head slightly at his offered hand, taking a step back involuntarily. "Lead the way." I looked away, trying not to meet his inquisitive look.

"Let me see your arm," he said softly after a moment's silence.

I shook my head, covering my left forearm with my other hand. "It'll be ok," I tried to play it off, hoping my voice would come off tough.

He slowly reached over and gently pried my other hand away, gently pressing near and around the now developing bruise. "Does this hurt?" he asked, his voice thick.

"Just a little bit. But really, Jake, it'll be ok," I protested lightly.

"Laura, I…" he seemed at a loss for words.

I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze with my free hand. "I know you didn't mean to, Jake."

He nodded, straightened his shoulders, and we walked the rest of the way in an uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Holmes raised his eyebrows. "You know, Laura, Brian has always had a soft spot when a lady asks him to do something. Always says yes."

It was nearly midnight, and Holmes and I were nursing a couple of coffees at the famous New Orleans coffee shop- the Café du Monde, and I was relaying the story of how Brian came to tell me what was going on with Sebastian. We completely avoided the contentious subject of the meeting with Carlos, and instead, I was telling Holmes about Brian's phone call.

I blushed. "Not like you, right?" I teased. "I can't get you do even agree with me, much less do something for me."

Holmes' face turned solemn. "Is that what you think of me? That I wouldn't do anything you asked?"

I asked carefully. "Then what were we arguing about earlier?"

"Laura, please. This is all part of the plan. I'm trying to catch a bad guy here. Two, if I'm lucky."

I sighed. "You're asking me quite a lot, you know."

"I know. Do you trust me?" His voice was thin, almost uncertain.

I paused a moment before answering. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. But are you sure there's no other way?"

He shook his head. "I've looked into everything, Laura. This is the closest I've gotten in five years."

"Think about what you're doing, Jake. You're setting someone up who hasn't committed the crime."

"Oh, Laura. I've given it every consideration. I wouldn't pick this plan if I thought there was a less dangerous option. I know he's going to get his hands on this stuff eventually, and you can think that I'm just facilitating the transfer, but I'm actually preventing him from committing the crime. It's not any different from the way narcotics run drug busts."

I mulled it over in my head. "I suppose. You can count me in, then."

Holmes heaved a visible sigh of relief, his eyes twinkling with some emotion. "I knew you wouldn't let me down in the end."

I tried to crack a smile, trying to break the seriousness of the moment. "I still don't agree with how you're going about it though."

He winked at me. "I wouldn't like you if you did."

My face turned an even deeper shade of red, and I quickly reached for a croissant, hoping to hide my embarrassment at Holmes' remark.

* * *

AN: Thanks as always to my patient reviewers who put up with my sporadic updates. You all have been wonderful. Hopefully you found this an interesting chapter-part of the inspiration was The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton.

MaskedPhantom- Jake shy- probably. I think mostly he's just emotionally stunted :-P Your suggestion about romance is duly noted and yes, let me assure there will be romance in this story (after all, I categorized it under romance, right?)

Hermione Holmes- I hope I didn't spoil the story for you, either way! Although I do hope that I leave a sense of mystery here and there?

Kittenchatter- hahahah, I prefer to think he's nervous because he's never seen so much skin revealed on a co-worker. Either that, of some allergic hive reaction… jk. And yes, Brian plays an important part in this story, but perhaps not what most people may think right now. And yes, not very many emotionally awkward details, but more to come, more to come, I promise… Sorry I'm so slow about updating- and with a short chapter too… sorry, sorry, will make you guys all happier soon. Thanks for love and support, as always.

Jepa- You flatter me too much. Yes, the heat is on, in all forms. This chapter hopefully was a different situation/Jake's reaction; I was trying to make him a bit more complex than what we all know and love as Sherlock. A chapter from his POV, huh? Oooh, I might just do it (but it might have to wait until this story is done). Hope this chapter was satisfactory!

Pinkpanther- Yes, Jake is very much not in tune with anything emotional. About Brian- you know, in one sense, you might think he does, but then in another sense, you'd think he's been nothing but loyal. Enough riddles, but I'm pretty sure we'll get to it in either the next chapter or the following one. It's coming up soon, I promise.

Cap'nCory- Yes, Watson's been getting in touch with her more "sensual" side, so to speak. Yeah, Holmes romantic is hard, and hopefully this chapter didn't make him too tortured. And don't worry, Brian's role in the story is coming up.

QueenofSpain- J Yeah, there's definitely tension! I plan to make you all happy real soon.

Horsefeathers103- Thanks for the compliment! Hope you enjoy this!


	9. The Truth Part I

Chapter 9

Maggie swung by the next morning and drove us to Ramirez's laboratory in the outskirts of town, at an old fertilizer factory. I had asked an old friend of mine currently working at the NIH to email the genetic sequence of _Bacillus anthracis_, and Holmes and I spend the morning categorizing the different cultures that Ramirez was working on by comparing genetic sequences, while Maggie sat near the door of the lab, casually flipping through various fashion magazines. _Bacillus anthracis_ is a common bacterium found in soil, but only certain strains are pathogenic, and out of the six cultures Ramirez had, only two of them were virulent, dangerous strains. Halfway through the categorization, Maggie got up from her seat, and handed two small empty vials to Holmes before returning to her seat near the door. "Here. These are for you."

Holmes nodded his thanks. One of the vials had a red lid, and another a blue lid. He proceeded to fill the vial with the blue lid with the virulent spores, and the red lid with the innocuous spores. I said nothing at the time, but made a mental note to bring this up with him later.

* * *

"Sebastian will be joining us tonight at Carlos' office after dinner," Holmes announced, placing the receiver of the payphone back in its cradle, before stepping out of the phone booth. Maggie had dropped us off at our hotel after we had finished up at the lab, and after ensuring her car was out of sight, Holmes had dragged me down to a payphone down the street, motioning me to wait as he proceeded to make a flurry of phone calls. I didn't catch most of the conversations, but Holmes increasingly grew more animated and excited as he talked on. 

"And the next part of your plan is what?" I asked tentatively, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

He grinned like a Cheshire cat, and rubbed his hands together in sheer excitement. "How about lunch, and a nice tour of the Garden District sound?"

I stared at him incredulously, before realizing that he wouldn't be deterred no matter what I answered. Defeated, I tried my best to put all thoughts of tonight out the window, before taking his offered arm, resolving to enjoy the last carefree moments of this trip.

* * *

"Rich Irish servants, Laura, not slaves," Holmes corrected me as we passed by the Briggs-Staub mansion, the Garden District's only example of Gothic Revival architecture. 

We just finished lunch (at Commander's Palace, yet another scrumptious New Orleans restaurant), and were starting our stroll through the various streets of the Garden District, the very symbol of Southern aristocracy of history and legend. Holmes was giving me the tour himself, pointing out various aspects of the first home we encountered, one of many different mansions that dotted the area (such as pointing out that the guest house was not "slave quarters" like I had presumed, but rather paid servants' living quarters). He was surprisingly well-versed in the different architectural details of the place, as well as the accompanying sordid history of many of its more unsavory characters.

We walked around the house a little while longer, side by side, enjoying the bright afternoon sun and slight breeze that rustled the nearby trees.

"You know, sometimes, you miss the idea of someone more than the person himself," Holmes suddenly remarked.

I winced a little, even though I was used to Holmes' random outbursts that were surprisingly insightful (sometimes too much so). "How did you know?"

"You're fiddling with your left ring finger again, and I know you don't do that unless you're thinking about Moriarty," Holmes smiled, probably savoring his previous victory over his adversary.

"But how did you know that it was the idea of James and not James himself?"

Holmes' raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

I sighed. "You're right, as always. I don't miss him as much as I just miss having someone there. Someone to come home to, someone to look out for me."

"Someone to take care of you, as opposed to someone to just love you," Holmes stated matter-of-factly.

I stopped in my tracks, taken aback by Holmes' statement. I never expected Holmes, rational as he was, to ever mention love, much less understand what I was saying about it. "I'm a romantic, but I'm not that optimistic anymore," I laughed nervously. "At this point, someone to share my life with would be just fine."

Holmes offered his hand to me. "How about someone to share this walk with?"

My heart skipped a beat as I took his hand slowly, feeling like I was going to melt on the spot when I felt his long tapered fingers close around mine. "I suppose you'll have to do," I teased, trying to shake off the butterflies in my stomach.

We continued on our walk, hand-in-hand, with Holmes pointing out the rest of the highlights of the Garden District, demonstrating the incredible endless depths of his knowledge.

* * *

"You have a plan, right?" I asked Holmes nervously as we got out of the taxi in front of Ramirez's office. We had just finished dinner and were now embarking on what seemed like an ultimate showdown, the culmination of what we had come to New Orleans to do. Had it only been a week? 

Holmes cast a wary eye at me. "You sure pick the worst times to play doubting Thomas."

"All right, all right. I'll just follow your lead. I trust you." I raised my hands in defeat. Never had I felt so helpless in my life, but yet, there was a sense of calmness and peace about giving up any sort of control over the entire situation.

We headed into the building, a dark place with no windows that housed on the first floor, a shady nightclub. Ramirez's office was on the second floor, and this was where Holmes said Ramirez conducted most of his business (the official and the _unofficial_). Holmes navigated his way carefully through the club, up the stairs, and knocked on the first door to the left of the long gloomy hallway.

"Enter," came a voice behind the door.

The small office inside the dingy building was surprisingly well furnished. A plasma TV adorned one of the walls, and a plump leather loveseat lined the other wall. Ramirez, the refined drug dealer turned bioweapons producer was sitting in an executive chair behind a deep cherry oak desk. Behind him stood the tall redhead, Maggie, her arms crossed, her face rather stern. She was all business tonight, and any trace of the perky cheerleader ditzy attitude had disappeared.

"Hello, Jake. Laura."

Holmes nodded back, "Carlos." I managed a slight smile back, refusing to trust my voice.

"So where is your friend, Jake? My time is precious."

"He'll be here."

Ramirez turned to me, like a tiger waiting to pounce. "So, Laura, Maggie here tells me you are very good at microbiology."

I shrugged. "To a certain level, I suppose."

He grinned. "How would you like to come work for me? The rewards would be tremendous."

I swallowed, hoping to kill the incredulous laugh that was just itching to come out, but before I could answer, Holmes jumped in, his voice fierce. "She's not interested."

Ramirez's eyes flashed with a brief intense anger, before cooling into a very icy stare. "I believe I was asking the lady, Jake. Especially in this day and age, we should allow the lady to speak her mind herself, don't you think?"

I watched as Holmes' fists began to clench, and I jumped in, trying to diffuse the situation, placing a hand on Jake's arm. "Mr. Ramirez, thank you for your offer, but really, I already have a day job."

Ramirez smiled. "Of course."

There was a knock at the door (a welcome interruption) before I could say anything else, and Maggie crossed the room to open it. It was Carl Sebastian, aka, Jack Johnson. Sebastian was a short and stocky man, with broad shoulders and a swaggering gait. A toothpick hung from the corner of his mouth, and when he smiled, his teeth were yellow and extremely crooked.

He walked toward Ramirez, completely ignoring Maggie, Jake, and me. Ramirez had gotten up out of his seat, and the two of them shook hands firmly. "I'm Jack Johnson. Heard you were looking for a buyer."

"Carlos Ramirez. What are you offering?" The exchange was quick.

"Depends on your stock. What kind of quality assurance guarantee do I have?"

Ramirez grinned. "I'm the best. The stock's all been verified."

Sebastian (aka Johnson) scoffed. "Excuse me if I don't just take this at your word, old man. How do you know?"

Ramirez suddenly turned to me. "Meet Laura Young, my microbiologist. She checked them all this morning."

My head snapped up, as Sebastian turned to me. I felt his eyes on me, trailing over my body, chilling me to the very core. I was beginning to wish that I had never gotten involved in this mess. While Ramirez seemed a bit more refined, a grandfather type who happened to be in the drug business, reflecting what some might characterize as an "old school" gangster, Sebastian was a completely different matter. He seemed very volatile and ruthless, and this made for a much more dangerous combination, as it didn't seem as though rules that governed rational human behavior applied.

"So you the microbiologist."

I nodded, trying to find my voice. "Yes."

"Where'd you go to school?"

"USC."

Sebastian laughed again. "Then how would you know anything about this? Only the NIH has the government's permission to work on anthrax."

"If you knew what you were talking about, sir, you would also know that USC is home to the only university center in the US on bioterrorism and bioweapons," I shot back testily.

Everyone in the room seemed taken aback by the vehemence in my voice; even I was surprised at how much I disliked Sebastian.

"Mr. Ramirez, if I may, I' d be hesistant about selling something so valuable to someone who obviously doesn't understand anything about it," I remarked, pressing ahead.

I heard Jake stifle a laugh next to me, and even Ramirez chuckled. Sebastian, on the other hand, didn't take my comment well, and in the next instance, pulled out a sleek black gun, pointing it straight at my head.

"Keep talking, bitch, and you won't live another moment."

Maggie responded by quickly drawing her own gun from a thigh holster barely noticeable under her short skirt. "Drop it, Johnson. There's no need to do this over a business transaction."

I was absolutely frozen, numb, vaguely aware of what I had gotten myself into. After what seemed like the longest moment in my life, Sebastian finally relented, putting the gun back into his own side holster.

Ramirez continued on, as if nothing had happened. "Now, I have 6 cultures available. What are you willing to pay for them?"

"Where are they?" Sebastian asked, still refusing to sit down.

"At my warehouse. I can call and have someone bring them here when you hand over the money."

Sebastian grinned. "Which I can tell you is never going to happen."

Ramirez's brow furrowed. "Why is that?"

"Because you're all under arrest," a familiar voice rang out from the open doorway.

It was Brian. The attractive FBI agent walked into the room, his gun raised, pointed at Ramirez.

What surprised me more was what Brian said next. "Maggie, would you cuff Mr. Ramirez and read him his rights please? Gary will meet you downstairs."

Maggie smiled. "No problem boss." She pulled a stunned Ramirez's arms behind his back and slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, before leading him out of the room, as her recitation of the Miranda rights echoed down the hallway.

Holmes spoke up for the first time since Sebastian entered the room. "You are going to arrest him, right, Brian?"

Brian shook his head slowly. "You know he's done nothing legally wrong, Jake."

Holmes's entire body began to shake. "He was trying to buy anthrax, Brian. That's got to mean something."

Meanwhile, Sebastian was watching this exchange with an amused twinkle in his eye. I was absolutely bewildered. _What was going on here?_

Brian sighed. "We're using Sebastian to go undercover, lure out the bosses like Ramirez. Come on, I'll explain more down at the station."

"No."

"Look Jake, you can't stay here. If you and Laura come with me now, I can still keep you out of the whole thing. But we have to go, now." Brian's tone grew very insistent.

"You know this isn't right, Brian. You're letting him get away with this, like you did when Jason died," Holmes spat bitterly.

Sebastian piped up, "Jason deserved it. He was nothing but a …" He never got to finish his sentence, for Holmes lunged across the room, shoving him into the ground. A couple of punches flew before Brian and I managed to separate the two, not before Holmes threw a punch that knocked Sebastian to the ground.

"Gary, I need you up here," Brian shouted into his radio before shoving Holmes back into the far wall.

"Laura, I need you to check Sebastian. He's been knocked unconscious." Brian threw a dirty look at Holmes.

I somehow managed to find my feet under me and walked towards Sebastian, who was now laying on the floor. I kneeled down and checked his vital signs. "He's got a pulse and he's breathing. He should come to in a few minutes, but we should get him to the ER to check for possible signs of bleeding in his head."

Brian heaved a sigh of relief, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Thank god. I'm going to call an ambulance, and you, Jake, and all of us are going down to the station to sort this out, ok? I'm going to try my damnedest to keep you two out of this mess." Brian glanced down at me, slightly smiling.

I nodded. "Ok."

"How did you find out about this meeting?" Holmes asked suddenly.

Brian's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Holmes seemed to be on a roll. "Ramirez, Maggie, Laura, Sebastian, and I are the only ones who knew about this meeting. You could have only found out through Sebastian, because Maggie was with Ramirez the whole time and couldn't have contacted you about the meeting before it got underway. So, did Sebastian call you directly?"

Brian shook his head slowly. "Matter of fact, he didn't. No, actually, I heard it from…"

"It was you, wasn't it? You were trying to set me up," Holmes suddenly whirled around to facea man who was standing in the doorway, his face still hidden by the dark shadow of the hallway. Holmes' voice seemed rather nonchatlant, as if this entire situation was completely expected.

The icy laugh that followed Holmes' remark seemed somewhat familiar, but still, the man remained in the shadow. "You brought it on yourself, Jake. Asking questions you shouldn't have. If we had it your way, we never would have broken the big Gambino case."

Holmes pressed on. "The Gambinos were going down; Brian and my brother had all the evidence to bring them down. Why did you have to set him up?"

"Because he refused to leave me out of it." The figure emerged from the doorway was the one I least expected- Agent Gary Sholto, with a revolver pointed at Holmes.

Brian gasped. "What are you doing, Gary? Put the gun away. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can all work this out."

Gary shook his head. "No. Brian, you don't understand."

Holmes continued, as if he had planned for this all along. "My brother was going to expose you for the spy that you were. He had proof that you were receiving payments from the Gambino family for updating them on the investigation. Jason was going to show how you personally thwarted the investigation into the family at least three times."

Brian paled. "Is that true, Gary? You were the mole?"

Gary didn't say anything, but pulled back the hammer on his gun.

Holmes continued, as if nothing had happened. "And then you arranged a meeting with Jason, telling him that you were going to confess, repent your sins. And my brotherfoolishly believed you, and showed up believing you were going with him to confess to internal affairs, and instead, you had Sebastian here meet him and shoot him. Six times in the face."

Brian staggered under the weight of this new information. "Gary, tell me you didn't do that. Tell me…" his voice broke, and I watched a single tear roll down Brian's cheek.

"I had no choice, Brian. They were coming after my family," Gary protested.

"Then you could have come to me. You could have gone to Jake. We would have been able to help you out. If you messed up the investigation, fine, but did you really have to get him killed like that?" Brian countered.

"Not only that, you then pinned everything on Jason. They refused to fully prosecute my brother's death because you told them that he was the spy," Holmes finished.

"I had no choice! I was going to lose everything! Jake was such a goody-two shoes, he couldn't let it rest. I begged him to let it rest, that we had enough evidence to lock up the Gambinos, we didn't have to worry about the mole anymore, but he just couldn't. He was on some godforsaken search for 'truth,' and God forbid anyone get in the way of that. I'm sorry Brian, there was no other way!" Gary shouted, before getting a grip on himself, sneering at Holmes. "And who knew that nosiness ran in families? Jason couldn't let it go, and neither could you. So now, since you're all here, I can't exactly let you just walk out, can I?"

Gary's gun was still pointed at Holmes, but before anyone could react, he swung it over in my direction. "Ladies first."

AN: And I'm so horrible, leaving you at this cliffhanger. Don't worry, I'll update ASAP. I was just so _exhausted _after writing this section that I just couldn't find a better place to stop. This chapter was rather difficult to write because there are so many things I didn't want to leave out, and I hope this makes sense (in terms of tying the whole story together). Please let me know if there's anything that still isn't clear, particularly with the Jason/Gary/Brian/Jake back story with the Gambino crime family. And yes, Maggie is an undercover FBI agent, in case you couldn't tell.

Thanks again to all my reviewers! Whew, hope this one was long enough for you guys (I don't think any other chapters will be quite this long).

Masked Phantom- It's always been about trust between Jake and Laura. The inspiration for that particular conversation was the one between Watson and Holmes where Holmes asks Watson to go with him to break into a house, and there, trust is the issue, and I felt it extremely relevant to the situation Jake and Laura are in. Ahh, I don't know if Jake has that much of a softer side. He's still Holmes, to certain degree, even if the next few chapters don't seem like it.

QueenofSpain- Yeah, Holmes is a prick, but mind you, Laura is a bit panicky herself. Hope there was enough of Brian in this chapter for you. And really, how could Brian possibly be evil?

Hermione Holmes- Thanks for the compliment; it means so much that you can describe exactly what I was trying to convey about the Watson-Holmes friendship. Hope this chapter wasn't too rough (however much I tweaked with it, it still seemed choppy and unrealistic.)

Kenta Divina- Yay Brian supporter! Yeah, he's not the bad guy. Obviously. He's just an FBI agent trying to do his job, despite all the craziness that's going on.

Kittenchatter- hello faithful! Yes, Watson is always panicky, insecure, and that's the fun of it all! Of course, she's too much of a straight arrow to really ever lie to Holmes about something that practically drives her into a panic attack. Holmes is trying, although I don't think he still quite understands what this whole thing he has with Watson is about. And yes, I totally see his point too, in terms of Watson being a liability and ruining his stupid vendetta. And sorry, I love Brian too much to make him a bad guy.

Pinkpanther- thanks for the love and support! Hope this was up to par!

L'Wren- thanks for the compliment. I'm not that great a writer, just having fun with this whole thing.


	10. To Hell With It

_from last time…_

Gary's gun was still pointed at Holmes, but before anyone could react, he swung it over in my direction. "Ladies first."

* * *

Chapter 10 

Holmes quickly pulled a vial from his pocket. "You do that, I drop this, we ALL die," he announced, trying to divert Gary's attention.

Gary kept the gun trained on me, but he turned to face Holmes, his eyes growing wide as he realized what Holmes was holding. "You wouldn't dare," he snarled.

I myself was frozen to the spot, until I realized Holmes had pulled out the red vial, filled with the innocuous spores, dangling it dangerously in the air.

"Try me," Holmes said evenly.

The following moment was possibly the longest I had ever experienced in my life. Gary and Holmes were staring each other down, in some private game of chicken, each daring the other to inflict the most harm.

It was Gary who broke the silence. "My pleasure."

A gun went off, and I felt myself being shoved to the floor, hearing the sound of broken glass as I hit the ground, right before everything went black.

* * *

When I came to, I was lying on the couch in the room. Holmes and two burly paramedics were leaning over Brian, who was lying on a stretcher on the floor, and the third paramedic, who was leaning over to me, noting that I was awake, starting asking me questions. "Dr. Watson, can you tell me how you're feeling?" 

I shook my head, trying to wave the paramedic off. "I'm fine, I'm fine." I slowly tried to sit up, but the paramedic wasn't having any of it.

"Dr. Watson, please. How many fingers am I holding up?"

I glared at him. "Look, I'm fine. I don't need you to tell me that, ok? What I do need is for you to tell me how Agent Morstan…" my voice trailed off as Holmes turned around. I shoved the paramedic away and hurried across the room, barely noticing the broken glass and blue vial top on the floor.

"Watson," he addressed me. "I suppose you want to know what happened."

I nodded, watching silently as the paramedics raised the stretcher Brian was laying on, noticing that he looked to be bleeding from his side. "We're taking him to Charity. You guys can follow us there," one of them said to Holmes.

"All right. Come on Watson, let's go, I'll explain on the way." He took my arm and guided me out, right on the heels of the paramedics.

* * *

"Charity Hospital is one of the best trauma centers in the country, Watson, don't worry. He'll be ok." Holmes' voice was thin, almost nervous, and it didn't reassure me one bit. He was driving what appeared to be Maggie's car, weaving dangerously through the streets of New Orleans, practically tailgating the ambulance that carried Brian. 

"So what happened?" I asked, slowly. "And why did we leave the scene of a possible biohazard site?"

Holmes' entire body tensed up. His jaw was clenched, and he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Jake?" I ventured, placing my hand softly on his arm. I found myself surprisingly calm even though I had a million thoughts running through my head.

Still no answer.

I tried another tactic, trying to get him to refocus. "What happened to Sebastian?"

"He's in custody. Maggie took him in."

"And Gary?"

Holmes' voice sounded hollow, devoid of any emotion as he recounted the events for me. "Gary tried to shoot you, but Brian shoved you out of the way, taking the bullet that was meant for you. I wrestled Gary to the ground, and Sebastian tackled me as well, breaking the vial in the process. Maggie had come back upstairs and managed to get Gary under custody. Sebastian, during the fight, completely lost it when he saw the vial break, and jumped out the window to avoid breathing what he presumed were anthrax spores."

"Is he-"

Holmes answered my unasked question. "No. Just a broken leg."

I leaned back, trying desperately to process what had happened in the last few hours. It was supposed to be me in the ambulance, it was supposed to be me near death, not Brian. Holmes, too, seemed to be feeling the same guilt I was.

"So what's going to happen now?" I asked, crossing my fingers hoping that Holmes would know, that the world's best detective would have an answer for me.

The silence following my simple question spoke volumes. _Holmes didn't know._

There was a first time for everything.

* * *

Holmes and I must have sat in the waiting room for hours (at least, it felt that long), hoping for any news about Brian. Holmes had somehow managed to contort his body in a way that he was stretched out along four chairs (looking very uncomfortable), lost in his own little world. I, however, could never sit still in hospital waiting rooms, and ended up alternatively pacing and sitting, before flipping rapidly through every magazine on the table, refusing to think about the events leading up to this. 

When the surgeon came into the waiting room, Holmes jumped up, rushing over. "How is he?"

"Agent Morstan is a very lucky man. The bullet went clean through his right external oblique muscles, and missed his entire peritoneal cavity. It's a completely superficial wound. He'll feel weak for a while in his side, but he should regain full function, in a few months, provided that the wound doesn't get infected."

I heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Can we see him?"

"I don't see why not. I'll take you to him, but before I do, do you have any questions?"

Holmes and I both shook our heads, and we followed him out of the waiting room. He led us to a patient room a few doors down, and motioned for us to go inside. I was just about to head in before Holmes grabbed my arm. "Wait."

"What?"

Holmes shifted uneasily on his feet. "You go."

I raised my eyebrows. "You're not coming?"

He was avoiding my eyes. "No, I will. I just want to call Maggie and tell her that he'll be all right."

Something was up, but I decided not to push it. Holmes would tell me when he was ready. Besides, Maggie_ had_ called when we first arrived at the hospital, imploring us to let her know the moment Brian was out of surgery. She was stuck "putting out the fire," as she called it, down at the federal building, and would not be able to make it down for awhile.

I shrugged it off, and entered the room myself, leaving Holmes in the hallway behind me.

"Hi there," I greeted Brian, as I walked up to him, pulling up a chair next to his bed, and sitting down.

The handsome FBI agent opened his eyes, before a smile graced his face. "Hi."

"How do you feel?" I asked lamely, trying to figure out how to thank the man who had just saved my life.

"Like I've just been shot," he answered a little too solemnly.

I groaned. "How long have you been waiting to use _that_ line?"

He chuckled softly. "Forever, really. I've never been shot before. So where's Jake?"

I smiled nervously. "He's on the phone with Maggie, telling her how you are. We just spoke with the doctor. He'll be coming in any moment now."

"Hospitals have never been his forte, Laura, don't kid yourself. It's too emotional," Brian shook his head. "He's so much like Jason sometimes it's scary."

"How long have you guys known each other?"

"Jason and I were partners for ten years, before he was murdered. I've known Jake for about as long, seeing how he and Jason were practically inseparable. Gary and I-" Brian stopped mid-sentence, as if unsure how to proceed.

I reached over, giving Brian's hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's ok. You don't have to-"

Brian shook his head. "Things like this really make you wonder if you know someone as well as you think, even if you've been friends for years, you know?"

I nodded.

"Gary and I used to joke that the Holmes' brothers were on their own separate planet. They're on such a different intellectual plane than everyone else, and when we used to listen to them talk to each other, it was complete gibberish, you know? Can't follow them at all, they're so fast."

"I can totally see that."

"So…" Brian looked at me questioningly.

"Gary and Sebastian are both in custody. Maggie said that she would come by to update us as soon as she finishes up."

Brian smiled at me. "That's good to know."

"Thank you," I said abruptly.

"For what?" he asked, puzzled, before understanding dawned on him. He shook his head. "You don't owe me any thanks for that. I was happy to do it."

I shook my head. "You saved my life. The least I can do is say thank you."

Brian grinned, his face lighting up. "Actually, that's not true."

"What do you mean?"

"The least you can do is to go out to dinner with me. When we get back to Los Angeles."

I blushed furiously. "Is this how you normally ask girls out?" I joked, trying to stall for time.

He laughed awkwardly. "Just you, actually."

I didn't know what to say, the words getting caught in my mouth. "I'm very flattered by the offer, Brian, but I …"

"Is there something going on between you and Jake?" he asked apprehensively.

I froze, my eyes darting around the room, hoping to avoid answering the very question I had in my own heart, before I saw the familiar figure in the doorway. It appeared that Jake Holmes had been standing in there long enough to hear Brian's question and was now waiting to hear what I had to say.

I turned to Brian, emboldened, wanting to tell him that yes, I really cared for Jake, and that I wouldn't go to dinner with him. But just as I opened my mouth, Holmes strolled briskly into the room.

"Are you joking, Brian? I am the very definition of bachelor," Holmes announced, not looking at me.

Brian's eyes lit up. "Recluse is more like it. Bachelor implies that you actually will still date women."

Holmes laughed, before gesturing to me. "So before I so rudely interrupted, Watson was about to say yes to dinner."

Brian turned to me. "Really?"

I nodded silently, as it became readily apparent that everything with Holmes was just a fluke; I was pining away after a guy who didn't see me as anything other than a colleague. This whole week was just an illusion.

"Great," Brian beamed.

* * *

Holmes and I left Brian's room a while later, returning to the hotel, after Holmes had explained the current situation as relayed to him by Maggie. Gary would be facing attempted murder charges (for shooting Brian), as well as conspiracy to commit murder (for Jason), and Sebastian was finally being charged with conspiracy to commit murder, as a result of the feds finding a vial of virulent anthrax in his pockets (how it got there was anyone's guess, but I figured that Holmes had managed to slip it in somehow, in the scuffle that followed Brian getting shot). Either way, Sebastian and Gary were both going away for a long time. 

"So where do you want to eat tonight?" Holmes remarked casually, as if nothing had happened. We were in the hotel room, and I had just gotten out of the shower, trying to clear my head.

I shrugged. I hadn't said a word since we left the hospital; more accurately, I hadn't said a word since Holmes walked into Brian's room and answered the question for me.

"Want to just see what's still open out there?" Holmes had opened the sliding balcony door and was just looking over the busy street below. It was only eleven, but the Quarter had never seemed so lively.

I shrugged again. "Doesn't matter."

"Are you angry at me?" he asked, suddenly catching on.

_No shit, Sherlock._ "Somewhat." An understatement.

"Is this because you didn't want to go to dinner with him? Then why didn't you just tell him?" Holmes asked, genuinely puzzled.

"I was going to, Holmes. You interrupted me," I countered, not wanting to remind him of how exactly he interrupted me.

He shrugged. "Come on Watson, there's no way you could have said no. After all, he did save your life, and you would have had fun at dinner."

I sighed. "That's not the point."

"Then what is?" Holmes was looking at me with a funny smile on his face.

This was it, this was my chance to tell him how I felt about him, how I would do anything for him, how I wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on mine. But I couldn't. I was too scared. "I just don't like people interrupting me," I mumbled instead.

He nodded slowly. "All right. I'm sorry about that."

I shrugged, mentally kicking myself for not telling him the real reason. _I was too scared._

"So how about dinner? I'm positively famished."

I nodded. "Sure."

"Maybe with some music? I know you've been wanting to go since we arrived but we haven't had a chance."

I smiled, slightly placated, meeting his eyes for the first time since we had left the hospital room. "Ok."

* * *

Holmes and I ended up grabbing some barbeque at Donna's Bar and Grill, while watching a local New Orleans brass band play some old swing favorites. 

"This is really good music," I remarked, before taking another huge gulp of my beer, my second mug of the night. I was determined to get so trashed I would forget everything, including the new barbeque sauce stain on the red dress I was wearing.

He nodded. "I really enjoy swing music." He then got up from the table, and extended his hand to me. "How about a dance?" he asked, his voice light as he gestured to the makeshift dance floor in front of the stage where a few other couples were already dancing.

_No, you can't keep doing this to yourself._ My initial reaction was to decline, but I didn't. It might have been the alcohol, it might have been my own frustration, it might have been my attempt to forget everything, but it didn't matter, for I found myself being led out to the dance floor where we proceeded to dance to song after song of big band favorites. I thanked heaven for having taken a swing class last year, as I didn't fall and make a fool out of myself, but rather, managed to keep my feet under me, and stepped on Holmes only once. Holmes was a surprisingly good dance partner, and seemed to really enjoy himself. I too, was having a blast, having never thought it possible to be _dancing_ with Jake Holmes.

The band took a break after awhile, and Holmes and I headed back to the table.

"You're not too bad," I commented, after we gulped down our respective beers.

He shrugged. "Jason made me learn. Told me it was a good way to meet women."

I made no effort to suppress my laugh. "Wait, I thought you were a self-identified recluse."

He laughed heartedly. "Bachelor, Laura, not recluse. I would still date women, except that women are never to be entirely trusted- not the best of them."

I raised my eyebrows, slightly hurt at his remark. "Even me?"

Holmes was looking at me with that funny smile on his face again, the same one he wore when he had asked me why I got so upset earlier in Brian's hospital room.

I could feel my face growing hot, and the beginning of tears forming in my eyes. _Even after all we had been through, he still couldn't find it in him to trust me._ Before I could start crying, however, Holmes stood up, pulling me up with him. "Come with me," he whispered.

I found myself being half-dragged past the dance floor to the stage, where Holmes beckoned to one of the band members, and had a hurried conversation, which I didn't manage to catch. I was just completely bewildered; one moment, Holmes was being a thoughtful, fun, person, the next moment, he was a misogynistic jerk._ Why was he being so difficult?_

The band began to reassemble on stage. "What's going on?" I asked Holmes softly.

Holmes didn't answer, but put a finger to his lips, before pointing to the man who had stepped out in front of the mike. The man grinned and winked at me, before making an announcement. "For our last song for tonight, we'll be playing a special request, which happens to be an old favorite of mine. Once again, I'm Chuy, and for all the guys in the Bayou Brass Band, thank you for having us here tonight."

"Special request?" I mouthed to Holmes, as the band began to play the first chords into the song, a seemingly slow ballad.

He had the funny smile on his face again. "One more dance?"

I flushed beet red. _He was asking me to dance to a slow song, after he had disparaged women- including me- a few moments before._ But I couldn't resist and found myself nodding, as Holmes then pulled me close, sliding his arms low around my waist. I nervously wrapped my hands around his neck, as the lead vocalist began to sing…

_I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight_

_I've never seen you shine so bright_

I closed my eyes, burying myself in Holmes' chest, as he pulled me closer. I remember that my mind was racing, trying to figure out what Holmes was up to, where we stood, what was going on, but as the song continued on, every worry, every concern, every thought just melted away. It was just the two of us, so closely intertwined that I could feel his breathing and heartbeat; we seemed so disconnected from everything else around us that I felt that time was standing still, if but for a moment.

_The Lady in red_

_Is dancing with me_

_Cheek to cheek_

_There's nobody here_

_It's just you and me_

_It's where I want to be_

_And I hardly know there's beauty by my side_

_I'll never forget the way you look tonight_

When the song ended, I found myself extremely reluctant to let go, hoping that it wasn't my imagination that he didn't want to let go either.

He reached up, gently caressing my cheeks with his long tapered fingers before lifting my chin up so I faced him. He looked at me, eyes uncharacteristically reflecting an emotion I couldn't discern. "I trust you," he finally said. "Too much so, I think."

I was about to ask him what he meant by that when he put a finger to my lips, brushed some strands of hair from my face, tucking them behind my ears (which probably were so red right now I looked like a tomato). He smiled to himself, muttering a "To hell with it," before leaning down. And he kissed me.

* * *

Special thanks to ACD, for Holmes saying "Women are never entirely to be trusted- not the best of them", in _The Sign of the Four_ and Chris De Burgh for "The Lady in Red" lyrics. (Tried to do the footnote thing but it didn't transfer over) 

AN: I hope the length and content of this chapter (it's longer than my normal!) makes up for my incredible lack of skill in writing anything remotely fluffy/romantic etc. I do hope that this venture into romance isn't completely out of character in that it just messes up the W/H dynamic. I do have to say, however, all is not as it seems (hint, hint). Thus, I would like to wave frantically and scream that this is NOT the end, that "It's Not Over Yet!" In lieu of doing that, I shall just say politely that there's more to come, and that you are all such darlings for staying with this story for so long and being so supportive and understanding and fantastic reviewers/readers etc.

L'Wren: I hope this update was fast enough for you! Thanks for reviewing!

Hermione Holmes: I'm so glad the last chapter turned out ok, and thank you so much for your compliments! I'm so gladyou enjoyed the scene with the walk through the Garden District- it's one of my favorites too. Hopefully this chapter lives up to the last! And no cliffhanger this time (I think.) Thanks for reviewing!

Kenta Divina: Here's some nice Watson/Holmes action for you. And really, don't feel too bad for Brian just yet. There's still more in store!

Kittenchatter: Hello hello! (I'm not awesome, really). And I'd have to say, Holmes has known about Laura for quite some time. He's just a bit slow with these things. And yes, Brian is the one who swings into action J even though Holmes does his thing too J I hope the fluff in this chapter makes up for it, but you also understand I enjoy writing angst and awkward and unrequited more than fluff, right? ;) Thanks again for your unwavering support!

QueenofSpain: Wow, thanks for the support! Glad I was of some help in providing the study break (it works out well because I write as my study break, and it's always nice to know that someone's reading J) I hope that Holmes didn't come off too compassionate with his emotions in this chapter, as we all know he's still got the emotional maturity of a 5 year old. At least when it comes to girls.

Horsefeathers103: Thanks! I try to tie in as much Canon as I can, although it has been kind of hard with the characters taking on a different type of relationship- something completely different than Canon. The whole modern era thing too- one of the reasons I don't write Holmes + Watson stories set in the Victorian times is that I know I'd botch it majorly, and I have too much respect for Canon to do so. Many people, especially on FF, do a fantastic job of it, and I'm always so envious and I admire them so much,especiallysinceI know I can't do it. Speaking of Canon, I thought you might appreciate the direct quote from Sign of Four!

Just a general survey question to **all my readers**: So I know I said I was going to stop at 3 stories, but one of you suggested that I do a chapter in Holmes' POV. Well, I'm intrigued enough to take it a bit further, in that I'm contemplating writing the 4th (and really, the FINAL) story involving JH/LW, and I'm seriously thinking about doing it from Holmes' POV. Yes, the entire story from Holmes' POV. Would this be something you guys might like? Or not? Or you know what, just let me know after the next chapter (which will be the last- or second to last, I'm still dealing with length issues) if you're unsure.


	11. In a Minute there is Time for Decisions ...

AN: I usually don't like putting AN's at the beginning of the story, but I made a huge mistake last chapter- I can't believe I mixed up the colors of the vial tops! Stupid, stupid, stupid me. However, cookies and kudos to Kittenchatter, who caught my mistake- and extra love also because she believed in me so much that she thought it was intentional. Sorry, folks, just a totally dumb mistake on my part. Anyway, here's the last chapter of _Redemption_. There's an epilogue to come!

* * *

The kiss started feather light, his lips on mine, hesitant, soft, yet I already felt as if my whole body were on fire. _How long had I waited for this?_ It took all my self control not to pull him closer and kiss him harder, as I didn't want to do anything that could scare him, so I settled for matching each move he made.

When we finally pulled apart, I felt like the entire world was spinning. _Was this really happening?_

What he said next was even more surprising. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't –"

I shook my head, placing my finger on his lips. "You should only apologize for stopping."

Holmes raised an eyebrow.

I flushed an even deeper shade of red, withdrawing my hand. "Sorry."

"We should head back," Holmes said, his voice husky. The restaurant was clearing out around us, and even the band was packing up.

I could only nod, as Holmes took my hand and led me out.

* * *

I awoke the next morning to find Holmes sitting in the reclining chair next to the bed facing me on the phone. "So my ticket will be ready at the counter so I can check in again?"

His eyes were closed, but his posture was erect; he was alert and awake, as he wrapped up his conversation. "All right. Thank you." He placed the phone back in its cradle.

"Good morning," I greeted him with a half yawn as I sat up in bed.

"Good morning." His voice was soft, melodic. I smiled to myself, realizing that I wouldn't mind waking up to this every morning.

"Sleep well?" I ventured.

He nodded. "Better than I ever have. Get packed. Our flight's in three hours."

"We're going back to LA already?" I asked, surprised at the suddenness.

"Yes."

I probed a bit more. "And Brian?"

"I talked to him this morning. He'll be back in Los Angeles in a few days. Doctors told him to wait so the wound could heal better."

I nodded my understanding. "Ok."

* * *

A quick shower and a bit of frenzied packing later, I realized the week's worth of events was starting to catch up to me. I was exhausted. Holmes, who had apparently been awake for ages, had already packed and was ready to go, even before I woke up. He was currently killing time outside on the balcony, observing the street below.

I stepped out on the balcony to join him, not bothering to close the sliding door behind me. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" I ventured.

He didn't reply, but continued watching the street below us, as he leaned into the French trellis railing.

"Something on your mind?" I asked lightly. His brow was furrowed, as if he were in deep thought about something.

He turned around to face me. "Why?"

"Why what?"

He interrupted, "Why do you like me?"

"What kind of question is that?" I protested, trying to stall for time, trying to search his eyes for any clue. _What was going on?_

"Just answer me." His voice became curt, as if he were the interrogator and I the suspect. "What is it that you like about me?"

I took a deep breath. "You do what's right. You're extremely intelligent." I paused for a moment, trying to lighten up the mood. "And you're an asshole."

"You like that?" He asked, incredulous.

I giggled unintentionally. "Because I know that in the end, you mean well."

"But that is what doesn't make sense to me. How do you know I mean well?"

"Because I have faith in you."

He seemed slightly placated. "Based on your past experiences with me."

I shook my head slightly. "I suppose. But it's more than that. If I were to base everything on my past experiences with you, I probably wouldn't have come out to New Orleans and do all these crazy things for you."

"Then why are you here?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Because I love you," I stated simply, surprising even myself. _Great, you kissed him for the first time last night and now you're proclaiming your love? Talk about scaring a guy off._ But it was already out there, and I couldn't take it back, even if I wanted to.

Holmes froze upon hearing my admission, his face clouding over with an unreadable expression.

As the silence continued, I felt more and more awkward, and was inwardly debating about whether or not to deflect to a different topic, to press Holmes on this topic, or to just bury my head back under the covers and hope that it was just all a bad dream. But the silence dragged on, and I realized that this was probably one of the biggest mistakes in my life, as I'd probably lose him as a friend as well. _Stupid, stupid me._

I bit down hard on my lip, trying to figure out what to do to diffuse this extremely uncomfortable moment. "Listen, I-"

He finally returned my gaze. "You shouldn't."

"Shouldn't what?"

"You shouldn't feel that way." His voice was hollow, devoid of any emotion.

I raised my eyebrows. "And why is that?"

I could feel his piercing eyes on me and the coldness in his voice. "Because I can't love you back."

I swallowed hard, reaching out with my arm to grab the railing for support, as I felt the ground give way from under me. "You can't love me back," I echoed.

He must have sensed my discomfort, as he took a few steps toward me, closing the distance between us. "Laura, listen, just let me explain."

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

"Look at me, please." He gently caressed my right cheek with his long tapered fingers before lifting my chin up so I faced him. His brow was furrowed, and I detected a tinge of regret in his voice.

"Laura, it's not that I don't want to love you. But I can't. I'm not…" he grasped for the words. "I'm just not built that way."

He rambled on. "My brain has always governed my heart, Laura. You know that I've always placed reason above emotions. If I ever fall in love, I'd lose it all, and I can't let that happen. I would be losing my entire identity. I would cease to be Jake Holmes."

_And that would be a bad thing?_ I bit my lip, finally understanding that which really fueled Holmes' drive; this pursuit of reason was what made him get up every morning. It wasn't about avenging his brother, it wasn't about any suppressed emotions or a bad childhood. It was about finding his version of the truth and casing it in principles of cold, unemotional, intellectual analysis. But what really hurt wasn't that he couldn't love me, but rather, it was that he _wouldn't_ love me.

He continued on, smiling ruefully at me. "Besides, I think a certain FBI agent would have been very disappointed otherwise."

I felt my cheeks growing hot in spite of myself. "I don't feel the same way towards Brian."

Holmes took my hands in his. "He's a good guy though, Laura. You should still go to dinner."

"I'm not going to renege on my promise to Brian, Jake. I just-." I was unwilling to acknowledge the point, even though in my head I knew what Holmes was saying was true. _Don't you get it? He's just not **you**, _I wanted to scream. But it would have been futile. Holmes didn't even want to try.

Holmes closed his eyes, as if it pained him to say his next sentence. "I can't give you what you want Laura. He can."

Maybe it was how he said it, but I knew then that Holmes wouldn't change his mind. Last night was but an anomaly, a mistake, an accident. Holmes was set in his ways, and nothing I said or did could ever change it.

And I had to stop trying, before I ruined everything between us. But knowing that, I still couldn't stop my lower lip from quivering, nor could I stop the tears that were pooling in my eyes, threatening to fall at any moment.

"I'm sorry." Holmes leaned in, kissing the top of my forehead, before turning away and walking back into the room.

"Me too," I whispered to myself.

* * *

Holmes and I were like strangers on the way back to Los Angeles, not speaking to each other for the way to the New Orleans airport and the entire plane ride back to Los Angeles. Holmes seemed lost in his own little world the entire way, ignoring any looks I threw his way.

"Did you want to share a cab?" I asked uncomfortably as we picked up our suitcases from the baggage carousel and headed outside towards the taxi stop, stopping in front of the first cab.

Holmes paused as he watched the driver load my suitcase into the trunk. The driver reached for Holmes' suitcase, but Holmes shook his head and held onto his luggage. "I've got another flight to catch."

So that was what he was talking on the phone about this morning. "Where to?" I tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting to betray any hint of emotion. Inside, however, I was completely torn. _Was he running away?_ He obviously had been planning this since morning.

"Napa Valley. I'm looking into buying a vineyard there."

I nodded slowly. "Ok then."

Holmes reached over to open the taxi door, his face softening for a brief moment. "Is there anything you-?" his voice trailed off.

I stopped, realizing that this was the end of the road, that I had to give it one last shot. "Just a minute of your time before you go."

His brow furrowed. "Why a minute?"

"Grant me this wish, will you?" I whispered, not waiting for an answer before I placed my hands on the back of his neck, stood on my tippy-toes, and pulled his head down towards mine and kissed him.

Later, I realized that I had put everything I had, every feeling for him, every last remnant of passion and every shred of frustrated love into that kiss. I was trying to burn everything I felt for this man out of me, exorcising it and tossing it into the depths of purgatory. At that time however, I was only aware that my knees were buckling and that the busy humdrum of the airport around us had stopped but for a moment. I closed my eyes, allowing myself this one mere moment in which I could lose myself and forget that there was a tomorrow.

I forced myself to let go as I felt him kiss me back, and suddenly I was thrust back into the busy airport. "It's been a minute," I dropped my arms and stepped back, still reeling. I knew that I had shown him how I really felt; it was my last ditch effort, on some level. But I knew it was also something that I'd never again experience in my life.

He was looking at me with that funny smile on his face again, the one I couldn't decipher. Was it amusement? Was it regret? _God forbid that it was pity._

"Good bye, Holmes."

He nodded.

I turned and got into the cab, leaving my broken heart there on the curb, with a man who couldn't ever love me back.

* * *

AN: Oy, I'm horrible, I know. But honestly, I think this is much truer to the character of Jake than anything else (yes, I know poor old Watson's been through so much that she doesn't need to suffer anymore). But don't worry, I have an epilogue and another story (I haven't decided if it's entirely going to be in Holmes' POV, but I also don't like switching a lot between POVs) coming up that might answer some of those questions of "WHY!". Thanks again for all your support!

Kittenchatter: I'm SOOO sorry- I had switched the colors of the tops between drafts and didn't catch it all when I should have! Thank you so much for pointing it out, and I'm so sorry about causing any undue puzzlement, etc. And yes, I've been waiting ages to use that line of "No shit, Sherlock." Ages. Anyway, I hope you don't hate me too much for this chapter- I just always felt that this was where this story was to end.

T- Thanks! I'll definitely try my best!

Hermione Holmes: Thanks again for your thoughtful review, and I apologize for the cliffhanger of it all. I was tempted to put this chapter together with the last, but I think you all would have felt gypped with the romantic scene in the middle only to lead to this scene. You called it this time- Holmes does claims mistake, and I avoided having to bring in Brian awkwardness (although, that's a preview to epilogue, and next story, the whole Brian thing).

QueenofSpain: That's true, huh? I never thought about the theatrics of it all. I'm glad you like it. I think I do have to let them go at the 4th story, because I don't know how long I can continue writing this tension thing without some sort of finality/change to the relationship, although, I must say, it'll be difficult from Holmes' POV. We'll see 

Daze-dly: Hello! I'm so glad you enjoy this story. Thank you so much for the compliments, I appreciate it! It's ok that you started here at this story, as I don't feel the first two are nearly as elaborate/detailed as this one, so don't expect too much if you ever go back to read them!

With regards to the fluff, yeah, I totally agree- didn't think my fluff writing was much to be proud of, but perhaps it represents the kind of awkwardness of it all? This- Watson/Holmes definitely isn't a smooth relationship, but I think some of it comes from Holmes just being insensitive and Watson being overtly emotionally dependent. More to come, I suppose, particularly with the first chapter of story #4.

L'Wren: Thanks!

Horsefeathers103: It'll definitely be interesting trying to write from his perspective because the Canon stories from Holmes first person are not particularly the interesting ones that show his more humane side? (At least, that's what I always felt, as I've always been grateful for the more emotional/human Watson filter through which the stories are told).

Anozira: "Lady in Red" is one of my favorites too! Thanks for the support with the romantic bit. What's interesting is that I find modern stories much easier to write than Victorian era ones; I'm not comfortable writing Victorian speech and so anyone who writes Holmes back in the day has MAJOR brownie points in my book. And yes, more to come, with story 4 that'll definitely give a bit more insight as to Holmes' thought process.

Estriel: You know, I was thinking about that too- as I love writing frazzled Laura. She's such an emotional wreck, it's rather therapeutic to write her. Maybe I'll switch off. Thanks for your support!

Kenta Divina: I'll let Brian know you're available, although, you might have to wait a bit (at least until after epilogue). Glad to know I relieved some exam stress. Hope you enjoy this chapter too, even though it's not nearly as fun as the one before it.


	12. Epilogue: A New Life

Epilogue

Brian smiled at me. "So, what's the good news you wanted to tell me?" We were at dinner at his favorite restaurant on Christmas Eve, ten months after we returned from New Orleans. I had kept my promise to Brian about dinner, and found myself having such a good time that I agreed to another dinner. And then another one. And then a dinner and a movie. And then a play. And it was the perfect way to forget all that had happened with one Jake Holmes.

Brian, ever so tactful, had never pestered me for details about the falling out I had with Holmes, and I had never volunteered the information. Either way, Brian and I were happy in our own way. He was a complete gentleman, steady and comforting, loyal to a fault. Holmes was right about one thing- Brian definitely knew how to take care of me. I couldn't ask for anything more, and was very content with the way things were going. There was a safety being with Brian that I never fully felt with Holmes; I knew that if I asked for the moon, Brian would have jumped immediately into a rocket and brought it back.

I grinned at Brian, unable to contain my excitement any longer. "I got promoted," I gushed. "Anderson's retiring and they offered me his job."

"That's so great, honey!" Brian exclaimed. "Chief ME, that's something." He reached over, giving my hand a congratulatory squeeze.

I blushed. "Yeah, it means no night call ever again."

"Which means more time to spend with me," Brian winked.

"You goof. It's not _less_ work, you know. Just different. Besides, who says I'd spend my free time with you?" I flashed him a teasing smile.

He sighed melodramatically. "Then who would you possibly spend your time with? Unknown John Doe #28 lying in crypt 15?"

"Only you could be jealous of a corpse," I countered.

"Touché. But I can't help it if I want to spend every waking moment with you."

I laughed, embarrassed. Brian was definitely quite the charmer. "You can't possibly mean that. For one, I have horrible morning breath."

Brian's face grew serious. He hesitated slightly, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black velvet box. "Oh but I do mean it, Laura," his voice thick.

My breath caught in my throat. _Was that…?_

"Laura, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you the very first time I met you." He smiled nervously at me as he opened the box, revealing a sparkling diamond solitaire on a platinum band. "I really do owe Jake big time for introducing you to me."

I was vaguely aware that the commotion around us had stopped abruptly, and every patron and waiter nearby was eagerly awaiting my answer to Brian's yet to be asked question. My thoughts, however, drifted momentarily to Jake Holmes; Holmes, the unofficial consulting detective with the brooding eyes, hawk like nose, abrasive and cold personality, the one who had changed my life so much that I was now looking at my second chance- a chance that I thought I'd never have again. I glanced at the ring briefly before returning my gaze to Brian's face- hopeful, glowing, anxious, and most importantly, _safe._

"Will you marry me, Laura?" Brian's whisper broke through my thoughts.

Brian would never break my heart. Brian would never hurt me. Any sensible person would have already said yes and kissed Brian senseless. I was far from being sensible, but even I had had enough. Ex-husband James, ex-affair Dr. Reingold, and unrequited love interest Jake Holmes. Enough, I told myself. _You deserve some happiness._

"Yes," I replied simply, smiling back at Brian. "Definitely yes."

Brian's face lit up as he took the ring out and slid it on my finger. The next moment, applause (and catcalls) erupted from the tables next to ours, and I was being practically crushed in Brian's bear hug, until my pager interrupted our reverie.

Brian's face scrunched up. "Please tell me you don't have to go in tonight. I know you're on call, but still…"

I too, was slightly annoyed. "It's ok, if I do have to go in, it'll be the last time." I reached into my purse, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed the coroner's office.

"Dr. Watson. You paged?"

"Dr. Watson, someone's here to see you." Jim, one of the night clerks down at the office, sounded exasperated.

"Who is it?" I asked, puzzled.

"He says he really needs to talk to you, and I can't get him to leave."

"Ok, um, can you put him on the phone then?"

I heard some muffled conversation on the other end, but couldn't make out what was going on. "Dr. Watson, he says he really needs to speak with you in person."

"Is he a family member of a victim or something? What is this about?"

There was some more muffled conversation on the other end until suddenly, another voice came through, loud and clear. "Watson, I just need a minute of your time."

It was unmistakable; the sharp commanding voice could have only belonged to one Jake Holmes.

"What's this about?" I asked, apprehensive.

"Just come down, Watson." He hung up.

I closed my phone, casting an apologetic look at Brian. My curiosity was getting the best of me, however. I hadn't spoken to Holmes since that fateful day at in New Orleans, and here he was, calling me on Christmas Eve. "I don't know what it's about, but it shouldn't take more than 10 minutes."

Brian smiled. "I'll drive you then."

I grinned, grateful for the company. "That'd be great."

As Brian called for the check, I began to think- _what could Holmes possibly want?_

* * *

Brian and I arrived at the coroner's office about thirty minutes after I had gotten paged. He stayed in the front to chat with Jim while I headed to my office. 

Holmes was perched on my desk in the office, his usual place whenever he came by. It was if nothing had changed. I closed the door behind me, and waited expectantly.

"Merry Christmas." He was the first to break the ice.

"Same to you." I studied Holmes' appearance a bit, trying to see if there were any clues as to what he had been up to these last ten months. Holmes looked in a rush; his hair was messier than usual, his clothes seemed thrown together in a haphazard fashion, as one of his shoelaces wasn't even tied. His face was haggard, worried, and he was fidgeting with the Rubik's cube I usually used as a paperweight.

He smiled as he got off the desk and walked towards me. "You look nice."

"Thanks." I felt a tiny blush creep into my cheeks. I had gone to extra lengths to dress up for dinner tonight with Brian, wearing a dark burgundy chiffon dress and even curling my hair.

"I realized something today," Holmes stopped in his tracks, as if unsure what to say next.

I nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Oh?"

"We've been through a lot together and I don't ever want you to think that I didn't appreciate it. Since New Orleans though…" his voice trailed off for a moment before he continued. "I just want to know if you still feel the same way because I just signed the papers on a vineyard and I was wondering if you-" he came to an abrupt halt as he stared at the diamond ring on my finger.

"I suppose congratulations are in order then," he said, after a momentary pause, his voice hoarse.

I nodded, my face flushing. "He asked earlier tonight. But what were you wondering?"

Holmes involuntarily took a step back. "I just wanted to know if you and Brian would come visit sometime," he mumbled, his face glazing over.

I nodded slowly. "That'd be nice." Holmes had played too important a part in my life- and Brian's- for us to completely ditch the friendship. "Did you want to talk to Brian too? He's just outside."

Holmes gathered himself together, regaining something of his old manner. "Sure."

He followed me out of my office, and greeted Brian enthusiastically. They chatted briefly before Holmes bade us both a good night and left.

"So what was that really about?" Brian asked, once Holmes was out of earshot.

I shrugged. "I don't know, actually."

Brian smiled. "You never really know with Jake."

I laughed lightly. "I suppose you're right. But I suppose we do have to thank him sometime."

"What for?"

I pulled my finance towards me and kissed him passionately. When we finally broke apart, I grinned sheepishly. "For us." _Holmes was right- Brian would take better care of me than anyone else, and I finally had a shot at something right- a redemption of sorts._

Brian laughed heartedly. "You're right about that."

We headed out of the office, hand in hand, to enjoy the rest of the night- and for me, to celebrate the start of a new life.

* * *

AN: And this is the end of Redemption! Thank you all**SOOOOO **much for your reviews and support and comments! You have been a fantastic (and very patient) audience, and I hope you had even half as much funreading as I had writing! Thanks again :-D 

Pinkpanther: Not too sad! There's a 4th story coming. Sorry about the vial colors- what can I say, I'm retarded.

Horsefeathers103: Thanks! I actually have an alternate ending someplace in rough draft purgatory, but I don't think I could ever post it because it's just not right… would you settle for an ambiguous epilogue and 4th story instead? I promise I won't write Holmes to be too "intellectually superior" and boring :-D


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